After the Battle
by QueenNene
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the rest of our favorite characters have a lot to do. This is a dynamic story of tying up loose ends and starting new adventures. Some substance, some fluff. Previously titled "Killing Time: Year One". HPxGW. HGxRW. GWxAJ.
1. Chapter 1

May 4, 1998

The sun was peaking through the curtains. Harry screwed up his face before turning over on his mat on the floor, trying to hide from the gentle light. With his eyes closed, he tried to drift back to sleep but gave up after a few minutes. His body was sore and aching, but comfortable enough in his soft knitted blanket. Ron's quiet snores and the birds chirping outside were filling the silence.

This was the first morning at the Burrow since the battle. He had expected to toss and turn the previous night, as he had become accustomed to doing for the past few years, but had actually fallen asleep quickly and only woke up once. During those few waking moments, he glanced over at Ron's bed and saw the outline of another, smaller body under the blankets. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. His body and mind were so exhausted, though, or perhaps he felt so at home at the Burrow, that he quickly fell back into a sound sleep.

He could hear feet shuffling up and down the stairs outside of his door. The sound of dishes and food preparation in the kitchen carried through the whole house. He did not know what time it was, but he guessed it was still early. After a few more minutes of enjoying his warm bed, his stomach rumbled and he decided to get up. After pulling on a t-shirt and slippers, he made his way downstairs.

Harry was surprised to see that it was Ginny, not Mrs. Weasley, gracefully moving around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. She was contently stirring a skillet of potatoes and appeared to be deep in thought. The sun was shining through the window above the sink and reflecting on her braided red hair. Harry felt a warmth grow in his stomach at the sight of her. He was quickly reminded that one of the best things about being at the Burrow was getting to see Ginny in the morning. When Harry finally stepped into the kitchen, her eyes turned to him. Harry's heart dropped when he saw that her eyes were red and swollen from crying. His own sadness quickly returned.

"Hi, Harry," She said quietly.

"Good morning," He responded, walking up to her. "Everything smells wonderful." He said, complimenting her.

"Thank you." She replied, her lips curling into a small smile.

She reached an empty hand out, and he obligingly filled it with his. He gave it a quick squeeze. He thought about how easily the motion had come to them but couldn't remember the last time he had held her hand.

"How did you sleep?" He asked her, worried that she was having nightmares too.

"Not well," She said honestly. "I am still getting used to being home without him. The house seems so… empty." A single tear streamed down her face and he hesitated for a second before pulling her into a hug. She fit perfectly in his arms and her face nuzzled into his neck. She smelled so lovely to him, like a sprig of lavender and a basket of clean laundry. She closed her eyes and sighed. The embrace was a comfort to the both of them; it had been a long year apart, a brutal battle, and a tiring two days of trying to pick up the pieces afterwards. She allowed herself to be held for a minute, before pulling away and turning her attention back to the stove. Her hand, however, remained in his.

"I just feel like there is a piece of me missing." She said softly. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. Harry could sympathize with her; he had lost so many loved ones that he was familiar with the empty feeling she had. He put his arm around her back, and she dropped her head to his shoulder. They stood side by side in front of the stove for a few moments.

"'The ones that love us never really leave us.'" Harry said quietly, remembering what his godfather had told him. To this, Ginny had no response. She continued to quietly cook, stirring one pan then another, adding ingredients, turning off one burner at a time.

When she was finally done, she turned to him again and faced him, this time looking him straight in the eye. He admired their beautiful green color. He was close enough that he could see the specks of gold and brown in them. His arm that was wrapped around her waist had let her body turn in it, and his hand was now resting on the small of her back. A shy smile had appeared on her face.

He had the fleeting thought that this was the closest he had been to her in almost a year and he felt a tingle in his stomach. Harry had the urge to kiss her but he knew it was not the right time. He did not even know if she wanted him to kiss her. It had seemed like ages since they had been together… And yet, he was holding her in a very romantic way.

"Would you like breakfast?" She said, interrupting his racing thoughts.

"Of course," He said with a smile. He let his hand drop from her back as she summoned a plate and scooped a large portion of eggs, potatoes, sausages, and a biscuit on it. She made herself a plate, too, and they sat down at the kitchen table.

They ate most of their meal in silence. Harry was in deep thought while he slowly ate. The war was over, but he had a few more loose ends to tie up. Fred's funeral would be taking place the next day, Tuesday. Wednesday, he would be meeting with the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, to talk about what had happened to lead to the destruction of Voldemort. Then, on Thursday, he, Ron, and Hermione would be traveling to Australia to retrieve Hermione's parents.

Harry was pulled away from his thoughts when he noticed that Ginny was staring at him.

"What?" He asked, wiping his mouth on his hand, "Do I have something on my face?"

"No," She said and shook her head. Harry noticed that she had barely eaten anything. She quietly stood up, vanished her leftovers, and washed her plate. She turned to him and said, "Harry, would you like to go for a walk with me?"

"Uh, sure." Harry said, a little surprised.

"Great," She said, with a small smile. "Give me a minute to change and we'll go outside."

"Sounds good," He replied, and he watched her exit the kitchen. He realized that he, too, should probably change and, at the very least, brush his teeth so he quickly cleaned his plate and raced up to Ron's room.

Ron was still asleep, his arms and legs sprawled out across his too-small bed. He was still snoring steadily, oblivious to Harry's frantic movements. He stripped off his pajamas, and quickly dug through his pile of worn out clothes, desperately wishing for something wrinkle free and clean. Giving up and hoping Ron wouldn't mind, Harry pulled open the second drawer of the wardrobe. He grinned when he saw three paper wrapped bundles labelled with his, Hermione's, and Ron's name. Knowing exactly what was inside, he ripped open his present and held up a hand-knit green sweater. Slipping it on and buttoning up his best and cleanest pair of jeans, Harry stopped in the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, and then hurried down to the kitchen.

When he walked into the kitchen, he saw that Ginny was already standing in the garden, holding a basket in her hands. He quickly joined her and they started to walk. They strolled through the garden and across the meadow until the Burrow was nothing but a small speck on the horizon. Neither of them had said a word.

Ginny stopped, put the basket down, and pulled out a blanket. She sat down and patted the blanket next to her. Harry made himself comfortable at her side and took the time to examine her face. In the sunlight, he could admit to himself, that she looked pretty beat up. There was a gash and bruise along her left cheekbone; a dark blue splotch on her porcelain skin. Lack of sleep had produced shadows under her eyes. On impulse, Harry lifted his hand and gently traced his fingers along her uninjured cheek. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his touch and the warmth of the sunshine.

After a minute, Ginny finally broke the silence, and offered him a smile. "Where did you find that sweater?" she asked him.

Harry dropped his hand and interlaced his fingers in hers. He felt comfortable in the motion, as if he did it all the time.

"Inside of one of Ron's drawers." He answered her.

"Mum insisted on knitting your sweaters." She started to tell him as she gazed across the meadow. "She was hopeful that you would make it home on Christmas, somehow. When Christmas came and you didn't show up, she thought you might appear later that week." Harry felt a guilty knot form in his stomach, imagining Molly compulsively glancing at Ron's name on the clock in case it swung into the "Home" position. "She slowly started to put away all of the decorations but she left the tree, with the three packages sitting underneath it. When I left to go back to school, it was still up. I wonder how long she kept it there before tucking the packages in a drawer.…" Harry's heart sunk when he saw that her eyes were filling with tears again.

"Ginny…" Harry said slowly, not knowing what to say. She was silent for a moment and looked Harry in the eye. She analyzed his green eyes, looking at each individual eyelash. He met her gaze.

"When are you leaving?" She asked casually, surprising him.

"Thursday," He responded. He looked at her sideways, wondering how she knew.

"How long will you be gone?"

"I'm not too sure, honestly. Hopefully just a few days." He studied her face, asking, "How did you know I was leaving?"

"I overheard Ron and Hermione talking about it in the kitchen." She answered him, in her calm way. She stretched her hands over her head before laying down on the blanket. She reached one hand out invitingly and he laid next to her. She scooted towards him so that her head lay on his shoulder and her arm was draped over his chest. He closed his eyes, appreciating the warm sunlight on his face. He was so relaxed with her so close to him that he actually started to drift to sleep….

"Almost every night, I thought about you before I fell asleep, Harry." She told him, pulling him out of his slumber. Her words were a quiet whisper in his ear. He imagined her laying in a four poster bed at Hogwarts, staring at the canopy on the same nights that he was camping in the forest, staring at the tent's ceiling. "And then I would dream about you. Sometimes they were horrible nightmares about you dying by Voldemort's wand, or being tortured by Bellatrix…" She shuddered at the thought, "But sometimes they were good dreams. Dreams about us sitting on grassy hills in the sun, or having a lazy Sunday morning in bed together." Butterflies grew in Harry's stomach at the idea of her imagining them in bed together. "And those dreams gave me just enough motivation to wake up and face the Carrows or Snape or the list of the dead that Lee would read on Potterwatch."

Ginny propped herself up on one elbow and looked at Harry thoughtfully.

"Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?" She asked softly. He shook his head, unsure if it was okay to admit that he didn't.

"Let me try again." She said before she suddenly swung her leg over his lap, straddling him. She slipped one hand behind his neck and gently tugged at him, asking him to sit up. He propped himself up, leaving one arm behind him, and placed his other hand on her waist. His heart was suddenly beating very fast. She brought her face closer to his until they were only a few inches apart.

She continued to speak softly, but her voice was calm and strong, as if she had imagined this moment a million times. "No matter how far away you were, no matter how many days I went without hearing from you, you were always on my mind, Harry. Every door that opened, I looked to see if you would be walking through it. Every letter I received, I prayed that you would be the one who sent it.… But you never were." Her hands rested on his shoulders as she spoke.

"Ginny, I wanted to write to you. You have to understand—" His brow was creased as he tried to explain himself.

"Oh, Harry, of course I understand." She touched his face and smiled at him reassuringly. "I understand that Dumbledore sent you on a dangerous, complicated mission to defeat Voldemort, and that you were hiding and constantly on the move. You couldn't be sending owls to me or visiting for Christmas or sneaking through my bedroom window. And, honestly, I get that. It wasn't the right time for us to be together."

He sighed in relief at her words.

"But I loved you every day you were gone, Harry. There was a little voice inside of my head that was telling me that we would both make it through this war and we would be together when it was all over. And now, it is." She paused a moment, "It is finally over. Now we're sitting on a blanket in the meadow at the Burrow, perfectly safe. Pretty messed up," she said with a masochistic laugh, "but no longer in danger of being killed by a monster or tortured by his followers. No more cryptic messages to sort out or hidden treasures to find."

"Gin, listen—" Harry started to say but Ginny shook her head at him.

"Please, Harry, let me finish." He nodded in agreement and she took a deep breath. "And you tell me that you're leaving me again, in two days. Well, Harry, I can't do it again. I can't sit at home or lay in bed and wonder if you're okay or even alive. I know that you have a knack for finding adventure - don't deny it!" She added when his mouth opened in protest. "so I need to make myself perfectly clear: I love you, Harry. I think that we are meant to be together, but I will not sit on the sidelines while you go out on adventures. If you've got to go somewhere, you're taking me with you. If that doesn't work for you, then I am going to move on and focus on my own adventure." She tried to sound strong when she said it but tears filled her eyes at the idea of parting ways with him.

He tilted his head to the side and admired Ginny for a minute before speaking.

"Can you have your bags packed by Thursday?"

Ginny's face broke out in a wide grin, the first genuine smile that Harry had seen all day. She leaned in and kissed him for the first time in almost a year. It felt like she had taken a sip of firewhiskey. Warmth had spread through her core. One of Harry's hands made its way into her hair and he slowly lowered himself back onto the blanket, pulling her with him.


	2. Chapter 2

May 4, 1998

It was already past noon, and Ron was still in bed. He was not sleeping. In fact, he did not sleep much that night except for the few hours that Hermione had been curled up next to him, her warm body comforting him. He sighed and rolled over, frustratedly kicking the sheets off of his overheated legs.

His mind was in a violent turmoil. Despite his best efforts to think of something else, his brain kept returning to the battle and Fred's sudden death. Ron had seen so many miracles happen in the past year, so many coincidences: finding the sword of Gryffindor, riding a dragon out of Gringotts, Dobby showing up right when he needed to, Neville pulling the sword out of the hat. But his whole family surviving wasn't one of them. He saw a million non-fatal spells, and a thousand missed jinxes, but the one that hit Fred was both fatal and on target. He even saw his best friend come back from the dead, but not his brother. He was guilty of lots of things: leaving Harry and Hermione, being a prat to his family, breaking Lavender's heart. Now, he was guilty of leading his brother into a battle that he did not return from. Tears gathered in his eyes at the thought of what he would give to have Fred back. Anything. Anything at all.

There was a light knock on the door that pulled Ron away from his contrite thoughts. Hermione's soft voice was barely audible through the door when she said, "Ron? Are you in there?"

Ron groaned a response while wiping his nose sloppily with his hand. He did not want Hermione to come in and see him while he was sweaty from sleep, having not taken a shower or brushed his teeth yet. But he really did want to see her…

"May I come in?"

Ron made a noise that sounded something like a grunt. Hermione interpreted it as approval. She slowly opened the door and stepped into the small room. Harry's unmade mat was spread out on the floor, taking up almost all of the empty space. Clothes were strewn about the room.

"May I sit on your bed, Ron?" She said, awkwardly standing next to him.

"You don't have to ask," He said with a laugh, lifting his arms towards her as an invitation. She quickly slid into them, sitting down close to him. He continued laying down but curled around her. He suddenly felt lighter inside since she had walked into the room. "You certainly didn't ask last night." He said suggestively.

She gave him a mischievous grin.

"Well, I didn't want to wake up Harry." She used as an excuse at which Ron rolled his eyes. Hermione's eyes swept over Ron's handsome face to his rumpled hair to the fresh tear stains on his pillow case.

"How are you doing?" she asked him, knowing that he wasn't doing very well.

"I'm fine." He said mechanically, running his hand along her back.

"It's okay to be something other than fine." She told him quietly, placing her hand on his cheek. He did not have a verbal response. His eyes began to fill with tears so he closed them. He felt Hermione lay down next to him, wrapping one arm around his waist and using the other one to stroke his hair. He rested his head on her chest so that he could hear her heartbeat; the rhythmic noise was a comfort to him. He raised his hand to his neck to feel his own pulse and, when he remembered that his brother's heart would never beat again, he could no longer hold back his tears.

For the first time since Fred had died, Ron lost control of his emotions. He cried and sobbed and shook and lost track of time and location. All he was aware of was Hermione's warm body, pressed against his, and her gentle, soothing hand on his back.

* * *

Later that night, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione gathered around the large wooden table for dinner. Mrs. Weasley, although obviously sullen, still pulled out all the stops and made a large feast for the family. Most of the meal was eaten in silence, broken up with a few strained attempts to make conversation.

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat and said, "So, Hermione, dear, when are you all leaving? Is there anything we can do to help you prepare?"

"On Thursday," She said with a polite smile, "And thank you for the offer but I think I'm pretty well packed. We've got a lot of experience with traveling."

"Ah, a blessing and a curse." Mr. Weasley said with a small chuckle.

"Are you sure that you don't want me to make you any meals to take with you? I can make sandwiches or pumpkin pasties or shepherd's pie." Mrs. Weasley said. She was doing her best to not hover over them since they had told her that they were leaving for Australia. She had actually responded better than they had imagined she would, simply giving them all a hug and asking them to come home as soon as they could. She knew that they were adults and that retrieving Hermione's parents was just as important to them as finding all of horcruxes.

"That would be lovely, Mrs. Weasley. I've heard that airplane food tastes like rubber boots." Harry said, knowing very well this would spark Mr. Weasley's muggle interest.

"I take it that you've never been on an aero-plane, then, Harry." Mr. Weasley said, excitedly. "What about you, Hermione? Have you been on an aero-plane?"

"Oh, yes. Many times."

"Tell me, then, how exactly does it stay in the air?" While most muggle-borns, and muggles for that matter, may not know why an airplane stays in the air, Hermione did know because she was exceptionally bright. She easily explained to Mr. Weasley the dynamics of flight before the dinner table fell back into a heavy silence.

"Mum?" Ginny said after a few minutes, "Can you show me the best way to repair my torn green jumper?"

"Of course, Ginny, dear," Mrs. Weasley said reflexively. She suddenly smiled as an idea came to her. "You know, why don't we go down to Diagon Alley this weekend and we'll get you some new jumpers? We don't need to keep repairing the same old ones. I think you deserve some nice new clothes for your final year at school."

"That would be great, Mum, but I wouldn't be able to go this weekend." Harry nudged her foot under the table. They met each other's eyes and he gave her a stern look. She knew that he was asking her to wait to announce that she was leaving with them but she didn't think that there would be any other times. Ginny did not like waiting around for chances; she liked to make her own opportunities.

"Well, I am going to Australia with Harry, Ron and Hermione." She stated matter-of-factly.

Harry was afraid that Mrs. Weasley would explode into a fit of shouts. Her reaction was actually much worse than a fiery rant even though she said nothing; she looked sad, defeated, powerless. Harry never thought that he would see Molly Weasley look like she had given up. His stomach dropped and he began to regret inviting Ginny to come with them. He knew how devastated the whole family was about losing Fred, and here was Harry, trying to take away not only another son, but their only daughter as well.

Finally, Mrs. Weasley said resignedly, "Well, good thing I know exactly where your passport is, Ginny." With that, Mrs. Weasley stood up with her plate in hand. "If you'll excuse me," She said, leaving the table and exiting the room.

After a minute of silence, Ron angrily said, "Ginny, if you think for one second that you are coming with us, you can think again."

"Ron, I am not asking for your permission to go." Ginny said coolly. "I am going."

"It's going to be dangerous and I'm not going to let my baby sister tag along!"

"Ron, really, it won't be dangerous," Hermione said, trying to calm Ron down. "In fact, it will be the least dangerous thing that we've done!" She said with a laugh, attempting to diffuse the tension with some humor. It didn't work.

"Do not call me your baby sister. I am not a baby. I am about to turn of age in a few months. I just fought in a goddamn war!"

"Okay, you two, that's enough." Mr. Weasley said. His voice was not loud but it carried enough authority to silence Ginny and Ron.

"How can you two argue in a time like this?" He asked, sadly. His eyes quickly watered. "Now is the time to be grateful for each other."

This sentiment did not phase Ron's anger. He heatedly stood up and stormed out of the room. The family could hear him stomp up the stairs and slam his bedroom door.

"Ginny, please don't take any of what Ron said to heart. He's just very upset right now and he's not acting like himself." Hermione said pleadingly. "I, for one, would be overjoyed to have you with us." She turned her attention, "And really, Mr. Weasley, it will be a very safe trip."

"I am not worried about Ginny's safety, Hermione. She will be with the three of the best magicians I know."

* * *

A few hours later, Ginny quietly knocked on her parent's bedroom door.

"Come in," She heard her mother call. She pushed it open and went inside.

Mrs. Weasley was standing in front of her closet, leafing through her many robes.

"Mum, are you mad at me?" Ginny asked timidly. Guilt had been wiggling inside of her since dinner.

"Oh, Ginny, come here." She said kindly, opening up her arms for a hug. Ginny quickly jumped into them, wrapping herself around her mum. She breathed in the comforting smell of soap and perfume.

"I was a little… surprised," Mrs. Weasley said, after she found like right word. "But I have learned that my children are adults now. You make your own decisions. And your father and I can either live in ignorance, pretending that you are living exactly as we would like… Or we can trust you and send you on your journey with love."

Ginny was flooded with relief and affection for her mum.

"You are the coolest mum." Ginny said with a smile, letting go of her.

"I know," She said with a small laugh, "Just don't come back married or pregnant."

"Mum!" Ginny's face turned pink, "You have nothing to worry about."

"I know I have nothing to worry about because I raised a strong, smart daughter who makes good decisions…. And remembers what I taught her a few years ago."

"Yes, mum, of course I do. Now can we please talk about something else?"

"No need to be embarrassed, Ginny, sweetie. I remember what it was like to be young." Mrs. Weasley had a twinkle in her eye and a wistful smile on her face. She lost herself in memories for a moment. "Your father and I were so in love. We had all these dreams to travel the world. To meet new people and to try new things. I actually wanted to be a professor and teach at Hogwarts. Did you know that?"

Ginny shook her head in response. Ginny imagined that her mother would have been a wonderful teacher, probably a favorite amongst the students.

"Well, I can't complain about the way my life turned out." Mrs. Weasley said with a sigh, "I've got a wonderful husband, a beautiful family. I just hope they don't make the same mistakes that we did! I don't want to see any of my kids pregnant before they leave Hogwarts!"

"Mum!" Ginny's face turned an even brighter shade of red. She had always known that Bill's birthday and her parent's wedding anniversary was too close together but she never bothered to do the math.

"It happens to the best of us, Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley said casually, as if talking to a girlfriend. "One second it's Valentine's day and you're sitting in Madam Puddifoot's then you get caught up in the moment and before you know it, you're lying on a blanket in a field outside of Hogsmeade and you can't remember if you said the right spells or not!"

"Oh my God, mum!" Ginny said, clamping her hands over her ears. "I did not need to know that!"

"Please, Ginny, don't be so dramatic." Mrs. Weasley said, laughing. "If you think you're enough of an adult that you can travel across the world with your boyfriend, then you should be able to maturely talk about sex!"

"Well, yea," Ginny said stubbornly, "I can talk about sex but I don't want to talk about it with my mum!"

"Fine, fair enough." Mrs. Weasley said, turning her attention back to her closet, much to Ginny's relief.

"Well," said Ginny, taking advantage of the break in their conversation, "I'm going to head downstairs and finish packing."

"Let me know if you need anything dear," Mrs. Weasley said over her shoulder.

"Okay, thanks mum." Ginny shut the door quietly behind her. An instant later, she opened it again and popped her head back inside.

"I love you, mum."

"And I love you, Ginny, sweetie."

* * *

Harry was hesitant to go up to the top floor, very well knowing that Ron was furious about Ginny having been invited to go to Australia. After dinner, Hermione had gone up to Ron's room in attempt to calm him down. That had been a few hours earlier and he had seen no sign of either of them since.

He slowly made his way up the stairs and rapped on the door. He opened it after Hermione called him in. Ron was laying on his stomach on his bed. Hermione was sitting next to him, running her hand through his hair.

"Hey," Harry said, "Do you have a moment?"

"I'm pretty busy," Ron said rudely, not bothering to turn around. Irritated by Ron's stubbornness, Harry gave Hermione a look. Hermione patted Ron on the shoulder and said softly, "Ron, please turn around." He grudgingly obliged.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't ask you guys before inviting Ginny to Australia… It just sort of… Happened…" Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"Oh yea?" Ron said, aggressively, rolling his eyes. "Well you can go ahead and uninvite her. Make that happen."

"Ronald, honestly, what is wrong with Ginny coming with us? She and Harry can keep each other company while we're looking for my parents." Hermione suggested, trying to mediate between the two men. She felt the tension filling the room. In response, Ron gave her a disgusted look. "I don't want him keeping company with my little sister! Not after the way he left her last time."

"Hey," Harry said, his own anger starting to flare up. "That's not fair. I was just trying to protect her."

"Protect her?" Ron sat up on his bed. "By getting her to fall in love with you and then just leaving her? Yea, good job. I'm sure she felt really protected."

"What did you want me to do, Ron? Invite her to hunt for horcruxes with us?" Harry's hands were balled up into fists. He felt his blood pumping in his head.

"I just wish you would have left her alone and never bothered her in the first place!" Ron yelled.

"You know what, Ron?" Harry said slowly, trying maintain his composure. He thought that they might be able to rein in the argument. "She told me today that she wasn't angry about me leaving last year. She even told me that she still loves me."

"She said that? She said that she loves you?" Ron snorted in cruel amusement. "She hasn't seen you in a year, how could she possibly love you?"

"For the same reason that even though I haven't seen her for a year, I know that I still love her." Harry responded.

"I don't give a rat's ass if you think that Ginny is the best girl in the world. Tell her she's not coming, or you can stay here with her." Ron snarled, laying back down on his bed and rolling over to face the bed, indicating that he wanted the argument to be over.

Harry looked at Ron for a moment before coolly saying, "I'm going with you, no matter what you say. I don't abandon my best mates when I'm angry." He turned to leave but jumped when he heard something slam against the wall. Ron had thrown a book from his nightstand at Harry but missed.

"What the fuck did you just say?!" Ron yelled, jumping out of bed and taking a step towards Harry. Hermione was now standing, as well, and wringing her hands nervously in front of her.

"Really, I think we should all just calm d—" She started to say.

"I said I don't abandon my best mates! Unlike someone else I know!" Harry growled, cutting off Hermione, and closing the distance between them. Ron lunged at Harry and they crashed into the wall. They wrestled with each other before Ron broke free and swung at Harry. His fist landed solidly against Harry's nose. Hermione managed to wriggle her body between them and pry them apart. They looked at each other, breathing heavily. Harry reached up to his nose and when he pulled his hand away, there was blood on his fingers.

"Up yours, Ron." He said, yanking the door open and slamming it behind him.

"Fuck you, Harry!" He heard Ron yell.

Harry was so angry that his hands were shaking and his vision was blurring. As he walked down the stairs, he was unaware of where he was going until he saw Ginny standing on the platform outside of her bedroom. She was wearing her nightgown and slippers.

"Harry, what happened?" Her eyes widened at the blood on his face.

"Your ass of a brother," Harry growled, looking down at the floor.

"Well, come in my room and you can tell me what happened." She whispered. Ginny opened the door and Harry quickly followed her in. He recounted the argument as he paced in her small room. She sat on her bed and listened to him attentively. When he was finally done, he sat down next to her on the bed and sighed. She placed her hand on his knee.

"Well, you're welcome to spend the night in here, Harry." Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, Gin, that's okay. That's not what I was trying to get at." He said quickly.

Ginny laughed musically. "I know that's not what you were suggesting, Harry." She leaned over and gave him a small kiss on the lips. "I'm the one suggesting it."

He visibly blushed. "Gin, we just got back together and I would hate to rush into anything."

"Harry, don't worry. We're not going to do anything…"

"Well, if you're sure…" Harry agreed, hesitantly.

"I am." She said, laying him down on her bed and crawling on top of him.


	3. Chapter 3

May 4, 1998

Arthur was already in bed, reading an instructional book on airplanes that Hermione had found for him. Molly was bustling around the room, preparing for bed. Arthur put down his book and watched his wife move throughout the room. He saw her put away a basket of laundry, straighten the framed photographs on the dresser, and even dust the top of a bookshelf.

"Molly, dear, why don't you come to bed?" He suggested, turning down the blankets on her side of the bed.

"Oh, Arthur, you know I won't be able to sleep tonight." She explained with her back towards him as she rearranged some of the books on one of the shelves. The funeral was the next day, and she was frantic at the thought of burying her son. Just then, shouting erupted above them.

"Do you hear shouting?" Molly asked her husband, concerned. They both fell silent and tried to listen. They did, indeed, hear someone yelling although they could not make out the words. This continued for a moment before a door slammed. Molly gasped and said, "Arthur, the boys! What should we do?"

Arthur shook his head and calmly advised, "Nothing, Molly dear, they're adults. We can't breathe over their shoulders." He patted the bed next to him, inviting her to sit down. She did so as they heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Shhh!" Molly hissed, silencing an already silent Arthur, "I can hear Harry talking… And Ginny!"

Arthur smiled at his wife's concern before turning back to his book. Being the father of seven opinionated children, he knew that it was natural for disagreements to pop up. He always did his best to stay out of it and things eventually worked out. He was feeling comfortably unconcerned with the situation until he heard a noise that made him throw his book down and sit bolt upright.

"Was that Ginny's door?" He questioned, a fiery beast growing in his chest. He threw off his blankets and started to stand up. Molly looked at him, alarmed. She demanded, "Arthur, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to get that boy out of my daughter's room!" He proclaimed as he slipped on his loafers and turned to grab his robe. Molly got out of bed too and came to stand in front of her husband. She quietly calmed him, "Arthur, they're adults. We can't breathe over their shoulders."

"Very funny, Molly," Arthur , with no hint that he thought it was funny. His repeated words did, however, bring back his rationality. His daughter was almost seventeen, and she and Harry had been an item (well, sort of) for a long while. He took a deep breath, attempting to extinguish his anger.

"Please, sweetie, just come back to bed." Molly cooed softly, taking his hand and leading him back to their bed. He followed her.

* * *

May 5, 1998

When Ron woke up the next morning, he was happy to see that Hermione was still in his bed. Her petite body was curled up against his, her arm draped across his chest. He ran his fingers across the back of her small hand. She stirred before opening her eyes.

"Good morning, beautiful," Ron whispered quietly. Hermione gave him a small, happy smirk before closing her eyes and nuzzling her face into his chest. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

"You smell so good," He told her quietly, enjoying the feeling of her warmth against him.

"Someone's in a good mood," Hermione said, her voice muffled against his chest.

"I'm a morning person." Ron replied. He could feel her laughing against him when she countered, "Since when?"

"Since I woke up next to you." He revealed flirtatiously.

"Oh please!" She answered with another giggle. She lifted her head and studied his face, trying to determine if he was serious.

"Seriously," Ron insisted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "I wish I could wake up next to you every morning."

"Well, I'm glad you're having a good start to your day. It will be a long one." She said, her brown eyes staring into his blue ones. With those words, he felt the happiness drain out of his chest. He had forgotten that they would be saying their final goodbyes to Fred later that day. He closed his eyes and let his head drop onto his pillow, turning his face away from Hermione. Once she had spoken the words, she had realized what she had done to him.

"Oh god, Ron, I'm sorry," She gushed, propping herself up onto her elbows, "I didn't mean to remind you so abruptly." He didn't say anything but instead covered his face with one of his large hands. Hermione looked at him, embarrassed, suddenly aware of the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra and that this was the closest and most intimate she had ever been with Ron.

"Well, I, uh…" She stammered, sitting up, "I'm going to head downstairs and start—"

He shrugged, not acknowledging her. She began to extricate herself from his blankets when she felt his hand on her arm. His touch was gentle but firm. He mumbled something that Hermione couldn't understand.

"I didn't catch that, Ron" She told jim softly, twisting around to look at him. He dropped his hand from his face. She could see the tears spilling out of his eyes, his face screwed up in emotional agony. He met her eyes, and solemnly said, "Please stay with me."

* * *

The funeral was an intimate affair. Most of the attendants were family members with a few friends mixed in. One of Arthur's brothers led the ceremony, amusing everyone with tales of all of the trouble that Fred gotten into and revealing how deeply he was already missed.

It was a beautiful day. The sky was blue without a single cloud in the sky. The sun was shining down on them, and a warm breeze kept them cool. Fred's final resting place was underneath a large oak tree on top of the greenest, grassiest hill at the Burrow. His grave was marked by a modern granite headstone that read:

Fred Weasley

1978-1998

Son - Brother - Friend

Mischief Managed

Every one standing underneath the tree had tears streaming down their cheeks. Many of them had folded into each other's arms, seeking comfort. Arthur broke away from his sorrowful wife, and walked up to Fred's coffin. He laid his hand on the cold, polished wood, and whispered, "Goodbye, my perfect son." His shoulders shook with sobs as he lifted his wand, and directed the coffin into the freshly dug void. With another flick, the dirt settled into the hole, and created a soft mound above the grave. George ran forward, falling to his knees next to his brother, and began to sob into his hands. Arthur dropped next to him and Molly quickly joined them.

Harry glanced to his side to see Ginny and Hermione locked in a tight hug, crying into each other's shoulders. He glanced around for Ron and saw him retreating back to the Burrow, all alone. Filled with urgency, he jogged after his best friend. When he was close enough, he placed a hand on Ron's shoulder.

Ron turned around. Harry's stomach dropped when he saw how miserable his friend appeared. His eyes were swollen and red, his skin was blotchy. Harry felt tears streaming down his own face. Before he knew it, unsure which one of them had initiated it, they had pulled each other into a strong embrace.

"Listen, Harry," Ron started to say, choking on his own tears.

"It's nothing, Ron," Harry rebuffed, patting his best friend on the back, "Don't mention it."

* * *

Later that night, the Weasley clan gathered around the fireplace in the sitting room. The small room was filled to capacity. Bill was seated in an armchair and Fleur was perched on his lap. Their heads were pressed together and they were lost in whispered conversation. George was playing a distracted game of wizard's chess with Charlie, neither of them having the heart to really strategize but not wanting to find something else to do. Arthur was standing next to a window, staring out at the setting sun. Percy was tucked into a chair by himself, reading a book. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry were squeezed into an old red velvet sofa. The girls were quietly discussing what they had planned to pack the next morning before they left for Australia.

The door opened by itself, and Molly quietly walked into the room, holding a tray with many mugs and a tea pot.

"Would anyone like a cup of tea?" Molly inquired, dropping her hands from the tray that stayed afloat; flicking her wand and commanding the pot to fill the cups. A few people muttered affirmative responses and the tea cups soared through the air, finding their awaiting hands.

"Arthur, sweetie, would you like a cup?" She offered, walking up to her husband and resting a gentle hand on his back. His head jerked as if she had pulled him out of a long, deep thought. "I'm sorry, Molly, what did you say?" He asked, turning to face her, placing his hands on her hips as well.

"I asked if you would like a cup of tea." She told him, looking into his eyes. He gazed down at her and gave a soft sad smile before replying, "No, not of tea. I think I want something a bit stronger."

She rolled her eyes at him, and with a flick of her wand, she summoned a glass and a bottle of firewhiskey. He smiled, raised his eyebrows, and flourished his own wand, and ten more glasses soared towards them. He directed the bottle to pour small amounts into each of the glasses, and he dispersed them to everyone in the room. Ron snatched up the one that was headed towards Ginny, but with one withering glare from her, he passed it over. She gave him a nod of thanks.

Arthur raised up his drink and announced, "To Fred!"

Everyone else followed suit and drank their first shot of the whiskey. Harry coughed as it burned down his throat. He was impressed to see that Ginny didn't even wince. He gave her an inquisitive gaze and she winked at him in response.

That first shot turned into a many drinks for everyone. The quiet room evolved into a rowdy atmosphere. Each family member was taking turns telling stories about Fred saving the day, the trouble that he had gotten into, and what they missed the most about him. The day that had started with overwhelming misery had somehow turned into a night of cheer.

Molly felt guilty for a moment when she wiped away tears of laughter from her eyes at one of the stories that George was telling, but she pushed that thought out of her head; she knew that this was how Fred would have liked to be celebrated. Peering at the clock above the mantle, she gasped.

"Oh my goodness, look at the time! It is two in the morning! Everyone needs to get to bed, especially you four." She motioned to the soon-to-be-travelers sitting on the couch. "You will have a long day tomorrow! You'll need to be up bright and early to pack for your fly on Thursday!"

"Flight," Hermione corrected very quietly under her breath so no one else could hear her.

One by one, they stood up and stretched. Hermione and Ron were the first two to leave. Hermione was sober, having only taken the first shot of firewhiskey, but Ron was drunk. He wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist and tried to hold her as they walked up the stairs, but it was an awkward movement and he was very clumsy. Inebriated as he was, Ron was completely oblivious to this; Hermione was aware but thought it was funny. When they reached Ginny's door, she rotated in his arms to face him.

"Good night, Ron," She bid sweetly. Leaning up to give him a small kiss on the cheek.

"That's all I get?" Ron slurred, pouting his lips at her. She smirked at him before leaning up and kissing his lips. She turned away from him and began to open the door but he did not let go of her.

"What are you doing?" He asked her, confused.

"I'm going to go to bed now." She explained nicely, giving him a reassuring smile.

"But this isn't my room." He cocked his head to the side like a dog.

"I know, Ron, I thought I should stay in Ginny's room tonight since you and Harry worked things out." At these words, Hermione could see the wheels turning slowly in his eyes.

"But I want you to stay with me." He whined. Unexpectedly, his eyes filled with tears. Embarrassed, he turned away from her.

"Oh, Ron, okay." She said with a big sigh. This reminded her of babysitting her young cousins back in London. "I will come upstairs with you. But only to put you to bed, okay? Then I am going to come back downstairs and sleep here." He seemed to only have heard the first part of her statement because a huge smile had spread across his face. He grabbed her hand and hastily pulled her up to his room.

Getting Ron ready for bed quickly changed Hermione's humor to annoyance. It took five minutes of convincing, begging, and threatening to get him to change out of his dress robes and into his pajamas. She finally lost her patience when he plopped down onto Harry's mattress on the floor and wondered aloud if they could lay on that instead.

"Because it doesn't squeak!" He explained with a wink.

"Ronald! No more playing. Get into bed right this instant!" She said in a very Molly-like tone. His shoulders sagged and he pulled himself off of the floor, and crawled into his own bed. He gazed at her with big puppy-dog eyes. He was sad for only one second, and then gave her a goofy grin. He quizzed, "You know what, Hermione?"

"What?" She said impatiently, glancing at the clock in his room that showed it was almost three in the morning.

"I meant what I said this morning." He said, sitting up in his bed excitedly. He seemed mischievous to Hermione.

"That you're a morning person?" She answered, playing along with him, hoping that he would tire himself out and fall asleep soon.

"No," He laughed, much more loudly than was necessary, "No, you are so silly." He snorted. "The other thing."

"What other thing?" She laughed in spite of her irritation. His laughter had always been contagious for her.

"That I wish I could wake up next to you every morning." He reminded her, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"I know you did, Ron." She said, amusing him. "It's very nice waking up with you but I don't think we should get into the habit of it, especially at your parent's house." He interrupted her by asking, "Hermione?"

"Hmmm?" She mumbled, closing her eyes, momentarily giving in to her exhaustion.

"Will you marry me?"

* * *

 **A/N: Let me know if you like it.**


	4. Chapter 4

**May 5, 1998**

"Will you marry me?"

Hermione's eyes snapped open and her head jerked to look at him.

"What?" She asked, certain that she had misunderstood him.

He had a wild smile on his face. He pulled himself out of his blankets and was now kneeling on the bed next to her. He grabbed her hands and held them in his own.

"Marry me, Hermione." He repeated, squeezing her hands. She jumped up from the bed and began to pace around the small room.

"Ron, we just got together! How can you be asking this? We don't even have jobs yet. I haven't even finished school!" She ranted in a panic.

"None of that stuff matters because we're in love!" He preached, throwing his arms open wide out in front of him. This made Hermione stop in her tracks. She looked at him and softly asked, "Are we in love?"

Ron rolled his eyes at this, as if she was asking what color the sky was, as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world. "Well, yea, babe, I love you."

"Oh lovely, Ron, isn't this sweet!" She said sarcastically, her voice getting shrill. "This is the first time I get to hear you say that you love me or that you want to marry me, and you're drunk out of your mind."

"I'm not drunk!" He slurred, offended at the accusation.

Just then, someone knocked on the door. Hermione, relieved at the distraction, opened the door to find Harry standing there.

"Harry!" Ron proclaimed, excited to see his best friend. "Harry guess what! Me and Hermione are—" He started to say before Hermione had pushed Harry out the door and followed him.

"Your friend," She interrupted herself with an aggravated sigh, "is a real piece of work!" She exclaimed, before thundering down the stairs.

Harry had a look of bewilderment on his face as he listened to her race into Ginny's room and shut the door angrily. He took a deep breath to prepare himself for his drunken best friend on the other side of the door. Swinging it open and stepping inside, a small chuckle escaped his lips when he saw Ron: shirtless, missing one sock, mostly laying on Harry's mattress on the ground but partly off of it, snoring like a chainsaw.

After changing into his pajamas, Harry bent down next to Ron and hoisted his body onto to the mattress completely. He was awkwardly laying on his stomach on top of one of his arms, so Harry pushed his opposite shoulder and Ron flipped over onto his back. Now he was laying spread eagle. After laying a thick, maroon quilt over Ron, Harry got into the other bed, took off his glasses, and, listening to the sounds of his best friend snoring, eventually fell asleep.

* * *

It was nearly four in the morning, and Teddy would not stop crying. Whatever Andromeda did, he absolutely would not stop crying. She rocked him in her arms, side to side, up and down. She burped him, changed him, fed him, bathed him, massaged his little back. Nothing would stop the crying.

" _It's okay, it's okay,_ " She was singing to him and she held him against his chest, " _No need to cry, you're okay._ " Still the infant wailed on.

She collapsed into a rocking chair, taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself. When Nymphadora had been a newborn, she had never had trouble with calming her. She always knew what her daughter wanted. It was mother's instinct. The thought brought tears to her eyes. Of course this baby was so much harder to raise; Andromeda was not his mother.

His mother had died in a war. And so had his father, and his grandfather. And now, the only relative he had was an old, tired, poor woman. Andromeda chuckled darkly at her description of herself. It was only too true.

Here she was, in her early sixties, trying to raise a child. Something that is challenging for young, strong, energetic women. It was hard getting out of bed in the middle of the night. It was hard to bend over to pick up a heavy boy out of a crib. It was hard to push a stroller up and down their hilly street.

And raising a baby was expensive! The diapers, the formula, the clothes that would only fit for a few weeks at a time. The money that they had managed to save up throughout their lives had been spent during the war on protection for the house, and then just for supporting themselves after Ted had to quit his job. And then Dora moved in with them, and they were paying for another mouth to feed.

As she reflected on all of this, Teddy continued to cry. Andromeda felt ashamed of herself for being so negative. She knew she should feel lucky, happy even, that she was given a chance to raise her beautiful grandson. That even though she had lost the two most important people in her life, she had a small part of them still with her. This thought brought a smile to her lips.

" _Grammy loves you,_ " She sang to him, " _We will figure all of this out._ "

This was all the reassurance that the baby needed, and he eventually fell asleep.

* * *

Harry was awoken the next morning by a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was little but warm. It laid on his shoulder and gave him a small shake.

"Harry, love, it's time to wake up." She cooed softly, her voice barely a whisper. Harry smiled into his pillow, thanking his lucky stars that he had such a beautiful women waking him up in the morning. He groaned before pulling at his blankets and nestling himself more snuggly into bed.

"Don't be silly!" She laughed, shaking him again, "The minister will be here soon."

With another grunt, Harry finally rolled over to face Ginny… 's Mom.

"Mrs. Weasley!" He exclaimed, snapping wide awake, sitting up in his bed.

"Don't tell me that you forgot he's coming!" She said, mistaking his surprise at her identity for her announcement about Kingsley.

"Oh, I guess I did," Harry responded, trying to play himself off. "What time is it?"

"It's a quarter past ten." Molly answered, as she flicked her wand and directed dirty laundry from the floor into a hamper. "The minister will be here at noon, and the girls are already downstairs to help clean."

"Okay, Ron and I will be right there," Harry responded. Just then, Ron let out a roaring snore. Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes at him but told Harry, "You can leave Ron up here. We all know what he is like when he hasn't gotten enough sleep and I don't want him offending the minister!"

Harry shook his head in agreement, and Molly exited the room. He dragged himself out of bed, grabbed his towel from the closet, and made his way down the stairs to the closest bathroom. Standing on the landing, he could see that someone was already in there. He was about to go downstairs to eat breakfast first when the door opened.

His stomach filled with butterflies when he saw that it was Ginny, wrapped in a soft pink bath towel, her wet hair falling around her shoulders.

"Good morning, Harry" Ginny said with a mischievous smile, and crossed the hallway to her room. She shut the door only halfway behind her, leaving it open just enough so that Harry could still see her in there. Harry was filled with inner turmoil, unsure if she had left the door open on purpose because she wanted him to look, or if it was an accident and she would feel violated. As if to answer his question, she turned around and winked at him before dropping her towel to the floor.

Just like Ginny's towel, Harry's jaw dropped. He had never seen Ginny's naked body before, and now that he finally had, he realized it was more perfect than he could have ever imagined. His eyes soaked in the image, his mouth literally open in awe. She bent over to pick up the towel and began to dry herself with it. She ran it along her breasts, up and down her arms and legs, and finally across her back. She reached into a bureau in front of her, and pulled out a pair of white lacy panties and a matching bra. She slipped gracefully into them. Harry thought she looked like an angel. The white lingerie, the innocent face, the perfect body.

Ginny walked up to Harry, who was still frozen in the door way, winked at him, and finally shut the door. He numbly turned around and went into the bathroom, still in disbelief of what he had seen.

* * *

It was almost noon, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Molly were in the kitchen, waiting for the Minister of Magic to arrive. The four of them were usually a chatty group, but this morning they were almost silent. Whenever Harry said something, Hermione gave a very sharp answer, and Ron only grunted. Harry quickly gave up his attempts at conversation, assuming that Hermione was still upset about whatever Ron had done the previous night, and knowing for a fact that Ron was nursing a mighty hangover. Molly, his other option to talk to, was frantically refolding hand towels.

The entire house was practically spotless. Molly would never have allowed a single crumb to be on the carpet or a single chair sticking out from the table when such an important guest was expected. Harry thought this was a bit silly, though, because the minister was Kingsley Shacklebolt, a man who had been in the Order with them and knew the Weasleys very well. At least well enough to know that occasionally crumbs were left on the carpet and chairs were not always pushed in.

At exactly 12:00, there was a knock on the door. Molly answered the door and welcomed in Kingsley and two aurors. After summoning them cups of tea, Kingsley asked if there was a private room in which he could speak with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The four of them were directed to the den. When the two aurors attempted to follow them, Kingsley reminded them that their protection would be unnecessary.

Once Kingsley, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were all sitting comfortably in the den, Kingsley explained why he had requested a meeting. He felt it would be beneficial if the trio made a statement explaining what they had been up to in the past year to clear any confusion that the wizarding community had. He was sure to emphasize that they could include or exclude whichever details they wanted to, knowing that a large amount of their mission had been secret.

Kingsley decided that he needed a refill of tea, so he excused himself from the den. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had a detailed discussion about what they would like to reveal, and what they would like to keep to themselves. Harry was adamant that they explain Sirius' innocence, Wormtail's treachery, and Snape's bravery. Hermione did not think it was a good idea to expose the existence of horcruxes, in case it would inspire other dark wizards, and would rather be vague on the actual objective of their mission. Ron was most excited to give more details on their Gringotts break out.

After a long (and exhausting) discussion, they had agreed on what to say. Kingsley seemed to have sensed that they were ready for him, because he knocked and then entered the room. After sitting down, he listened to the three friends tell their account of their adventures. A charmed quill was writing it all down on a floating scroll of parchment. When they were finished, Kingsley flicked his wand, and the scroll rolled itself up and flew into his bag.

"Thank you for your account," Kingsley said in his calm deep voice, "I know it cannot have been easy for you to relive it all, but hopefully this will be the last time you do." They all nodded as he continued. "There are just a few more things to address. I have something for each of you."

Kingsley reached into his bag, and pulled out three draw string pouches. He handed one to each of them. "Speaking for the entire wizarding community, we cannot repay you for all of your sacrifices, your bravery, and your hard work. We hope that you accept this as a small token of our gratitude."

They loosened the drawstrings at the top of their bags and peered in to see that it was full of gold galleons. The bags must have had undetectable extension charm because there were too many galleons to fit in a normal bag that size, and the bag weighed almost nothing. They stared at the collection in disbelief. It was Ron who spoke up first. "Kingsley, we can't accept this! There must be a thousand galleons in here."

Kingsley gave him a genuine smile. "There are five thousand galleons in each bag."

Hermione gasped before Kingsley continued in a serious tone, "And I must insist that you accept. It is the least that we can do for you." Understanding that they could not refuse it, they thanked Kingsley profusely. He accepted their thanks graciously before moving on to the next topic.

"So, Hermione, I assume that you will be wanting to return to Hogwarts to finish your seventh year." he ventured.

"Yes, Minister," Hermione answered. He smiled at her and turned his attention to the boys. "Harry and Ron, I think it's safe to assume that you will not be joining Ms. Granger."

The grinned guiltily in affirmation.

"Just as I expected," Kingsley continued. "Harry, is it still true that you would like to become an auror? Or have you had enough adventure for one life time?"

"Minister," Harry said seriously, "I have spent my entire life fighting against evil. I couldn't imagine doing anything else."

"Well Harry, in that case, I must disappoint you. While the ministry would be honored to have you serving as an auror, we will be unable to start your training for three more years." He explained, "The academy itself is three years long, and we had to take a year off because of the war."

Harry nodded, unsure if he felt disappointed or relieved.

"I will put your name down for the 2001 class."

"Thank you, Minister." Harry said.

* * *

After Kingsley had departed, the trio split up. Harry went to write a letter, Hermione retreated to Ginny's room, and Ron disappeared completely. After Harry sent a Pigwidgeon on an errand, he began searching the entire house for Ginny. He finally found her sitting on a blanket outside on one of the Burrow's rolling hills.

"Hey," He greeted as he approached her.

"Hey babe," Ginny responded, patting the blanket next to her.

"Babe?" He repeated, grinning at the name, "I like that." He told her as he sat down.

"Good," She said, scooting up next to him.

"I also liked your little show this morning," He whispered into her ear. Ginny laughed musically and rested her head on his shoulder. They settled into an easy conversation, and relaxed on the blanket for most of the afternoon.

* * *

Ron knew that there was only one shop in Ottery St. Catchpole that would have what he was looking for so he thought it would be an easy trip. He didn't even tell anyone that he was leaving, assuming he would be back before anyone noticed that he was gone. Once he was inside, though, he was overwhelmed by all of his options. How would anyone know which one to buy? Eventually, with the help of a saleslady, he was able to make a decision. He made his first payment, and apparated back home.

* * *

Baby Teddy was enjoying his afternoon nap, and Andromeda was taking advantage of the time to clean the kitchen. She was running the dishes through the sink, and drying them on the rack when she heard a _tap tap tap_ on the window. She looked up to see a tiny, energetic little owl with a letter and a purse in his talons.

She slid the window open and the small bird flitted into the kitchen. She took the bag and note from him, and offered him a saucer of cool water. The bird lapped up a few beakfuls before hooting happily and flying out the window.

"What a silly little owl," Andromeda mused, as she opened the letter.

 _Mrs. Tonks,_

 _The ministry has given me this money but I want you to have it. Please accept it. Spend it on Teddy and yourself._

 _I am going to Australia for a few days, but when I get back, can I please see Teddy?_

 _Love,_

 _Harry_


	5. Chapter 5

When Ron walked into the kitchen, he was excited to see that Hermione was in there. She looked so cute to him. Her hair was up in a knot on top of her head. She was wearing a flannel shirt and comfortable jeans, and her legs were folded underneath her. Her hand rested on the side of a mug, as if she was between sips. Spread in front of her were their travel plans for the next day.

"Hey beautiful." Ron greeted, sitting down next to her, draping his arm around her, and kissing her on the cheek. "I'm feeling much better now that I've had a walk around the garden."

She didn't respond but instead continued reading their itinerary.

"What are you up to?" Ron tried again, assuming that she was very concentrated. When she did not respond this time, however, he began to worry that she was upset. "Is everything okay?"

Still no response. He pulled his arm away from behind her and looked at her carefully.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Wow, Ronald," She mocked, "with detective skills like that maybe you should write to Kingsley and ask if you can be put on the waiting list too!"

"What?" Ron asked, utterly bewildered at her anger. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

"If you don't already know then I am not going to bother explaining it to you." She said very haughtily. Ron, who typically would have retaliated with his own rage, took a deep breath and tried to be patient. Calmly, he asked, "Was it something I did last night?"

Seeing that Ron was maintaining his temper, Hermione felt a surge of remorse towards her own immature behavior. Of course he couldn't remember what he told her last night. And it's not like he meant it anyways.

"Something you said." She said quietly, cluing him in. He sensed her walls go down and he leaned in closer to her. He lifted his hand and rested it on the side of her face.

"God, Hermione, I'm sorry. I was drunk out of my mind and this morning I paid the consequences." He said quietly. His apology was nice but she felt rather unsympathetic about his hangover. Looking into her eyes, he continued: "Whatever I said, Hermione, I swear I didn't mean it."

They instantly filled with tears and she turned away from him.

"I mean, uh… I did mean it?" Ron corrected quickly, trying to do some damage control.

"Oh shut up, Ron," Hermione said with a sad chuckle, wiping her eyes. "You don't even know what you said."

"Tell me what I said." He begged her. She studied his face for a minute, trying to decide if she should or not.

"No," She decided, "I'd rather forget it."

"Are you sure, Hermione?" He asked, unsure if he should drop it or stay persistent.

"Yes, now that we're talking about, I realize it was a silly thing to get upset about." She insisted calmly, putting her petite hand on his large one and giving it a squeeze. "I'd rather just move on and have a good trip to Australia. We have a lot to focus on."

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"I may not remember what I said, but I am sorry that I hurt you. I will make it up to you, okay?"

"Thank you, Ron."

* * *

Molly and Arthur were enjoying a rare moment of relaxation by the fire later that night. She was sitting down in a big, cushioned chair in the sitting room, perusing through the latest issue of _Witches Weekly_ magazine. He was at the dining room table, tinkering with a muggle RC car. The sound of someone at the door lifted Molly's head. Ron was standing in the doorway.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, putting her magazine down on her lap.

"I'm feeling better since you made me that potion." He replied. As she watched him speak, she noticed he was nervous. He was jumpy, his eyes were darting around the room, and he was wringing his hands together.

"What's wrong with you?" She demanded, straightforwardly. At these words, Arthur looked up to study Ron too.

"Mum, Dad, can I tell you something?" He responded.

"Of course," She answered, suddenly worried about him. "Come, come. Sit down next to me." She patted the arm of the couch next to her. He obliged. Arthur put down his tools, and moved to a closer seat too.

"Did something happen?" He asked.

"No," Ron said, "I want to tell you about what I've been up to the past year. You've both been so supportive and I think you deserve to know what really happened. We had to write a statement, but we left a lot of the truth out.I want you to know all of it."

And with that, Ron dived into the story of what had happened between the three friends and Voldemort. The only detail he excluded was when he saw a naked Harry and Hermione in the horcrux. Everything else, he told them. About the horcruxes and their effects, the memories, the hunt, the sleepless nights, the bad moods, the constant longing to come home, the argument, the departure, the sword, the return. With deep breaths of courage, he even told them about how he felt like it was his fault for Fred's death.

By the end of the story, he was sitting between his two parents, both with a hand on his back. He was crying, from sadness at the pain that he still felt from his losses, from joy that it was over and Voldemort was defeated, and from relief that he had finally told someone everything that had happened.

* * *

Later that night, Ginny and Hermione were in Ginny's room, getting ready for bed. Hermione was changing into her pajamas, and Ginny was painting her toe nails a bright pink color.

"Are you sure you don't want to do your toes too? We are going to Australia and we might make it to the beach!" Ginny said excitedly.

"The beach sounds so nice," Hermione admitted, "but I don't think we'll be spending any time there. Hopefully we'll find my parents on the first day, spend the night, and fly back the day after."

Ginny looked at her mischievously, "Well even if we don't have any time at the beach, you should do it anyways. Didn't you know that Ron has a foot fetish?" She giggled a little at the end.

"Shut up!" Hermione's face had turned crimson. "No he doesn't."

"I wouldn't lie to you, Hermione!" Ginny said, laughing at her friend's increasing embarrassment.

"You are joking with me." Hermione said flatly. Surely Ginny was kidding, right?

"Doesn't he ever ask to see your feet?" Ginny pried.

"No!" Hermione denied.

"Oh," Comprehension dawning on Ginny's face, "So you two haven't had sex yet?"

At this point, Hermione's face was the same color as a cooked lobster. She retorted, not answering, "Why does that matter!?"

"Okay, well this is what will happen" Ginny was very playfully serious. "You'll shag a few times, and just when you start to get the hang out it, he'll ask if you can incorporate your feet."

"What?!" Hermione said in shock. "That's disgusting! This is your brother you're talking about!"

"Hey, I'm a mature adult. That doesn't bother me. Everyone does it!" Ginny stated, matter of factly, "And I'm just trying to help a sister out. I want to warn you before you get in it too deep."

Hermione rolled her eyes so far back in her head, Ginny wondered if she could see her brain.

"Speaking of getting in it too deep," Hermione attempted to change the subject. "Do you want to hear something crazy?"

"Okay, I know I just said that I was fine talking about your and Ron's sex life but—" Ginny started to say but Hermione threw a pillow at her.

"No, Ginny, it's nothing like that!"

"Well you really could have worded it a different way!" Ginny said, laughing loudly.

"Ginny, I was just repeating what you said!"

"Whatever, Hermione…"

Hermione sighed dramatically: "I'm trying to tell you something important!"

"Okay, okay," Ginny giggled, trying to stop laughing. "Tell me."

Hermione looked at Ginny, preparing to reveal something very privately. With a deep breath, she quietly admitted, "Last night, when Ron was drunk, he told me he loved me."

"No!" Ginny exclaimed in mock surprise, her eyes wide and her hands flying to the sides of her face. Hermione gave her a sour look before saying,"And then he asked me to marry him."

Ginny's mouth fell open in real surprise this time, her eyes wide, and her hands flying to the sides of her face.

"What!?" She shouted. "Are you serious?!"

"Yes!" Hermione confirmed.

"Well what did you say?!" Ginny had jumped off of her bed and was now sitting next to Hermione, eagerly waiting for more details.

"I didn't really say anything." Hermione started, "I just got upset because he was so drunk and he ruined the first time that he's told me he loved me, and the first time he's said anything about marrying me. Harry came in at that moment so I used it as an excuse to leave. Then, this morning, I was worried he would bring it up again but he doesn't even remember!"

Ginny nodded her head, indicating her attentive listening. "So is that why you were mad at him this morning?" She asked,

"Well, yes." Hermione admitted, "I guess my feelings were just hurt." She paused. "But we worked it out. He actually apologized, even though he didn't know why I was upset. It was actually really sweet and unusually mature for him."

"You have him wrapped around your finger." Ginny smiled at her could-have-been sister-in-law.

"You think?" Hermione asked, unsure.

"I know." Ginny promised.

They were silent for a moment. Ginny stretched her arms over her head and yawned. She crawled back over to her bed and got into her covers. Hermione did the same and flicked her wand to turn off the lights. The girls lay in their beds in silence for a few minutes before Hermione piped up, "So how are thing's going between you and Harry?"

"So far, so good." Ginny responded, "I mean, it's only been a few days but everything just seems so natural for us. It's like we were never apart."

"You know, Gin," Ginny could hear the smile in Hermione's voice. "He thought about you and missed you every day when we were traveling. I remember, one night at Shell cottage, he was—"

"You were at Shell cottage?" Ginny interrupted. Hermione was silent for a beat before asking, "Harry didn't tell you?

"He hasn't really told me anything about your trip." Ginny replied, a little coolly. Why hadn't Bill or Fleur mentioned their visit? When were they there? Where else had they been? What had they been up to, anyways? Ginny tried her best not to pry, but sometimes she felt so excluded from Harry.

"You know how he is," Hermione said, attempting to justify Harry's secrecy, "It can take him awhile to open up. The past year was really hard on us, so he probably just doesn't like talking about it."

"That's true," Ginny agreed, half heartedly.

"You should just let him tell you on his own time." Hermione advised her.

"Yea, you're right." Ginny said before rolling over onto her side, ready to fall asleep. Hermione was right. Harry would tell her, one day.

"Hey Ginny?" Hermione's voice rang out from across the silent, dark room.

"Yea, Hermione?"

"You were kidding about the foot fetish, right?"

* * *

The next morning, after a traffic jam in the bathroom, a scavenger hunt for missing items, and a panic attack or two from Hermione, the four travelers were standing at the door of the Burrow, saying goodbye to Molly.

"Be safe, my dears," Molly said, giving each of them a hug. Tucking hair behind ears, fixing collars, wiping toothpaste smudges off faces. "I will not rest easy until you are back home."

They each bid her goodbye before piling into a ministry car. This car, driven by a silent, intimidating auror, would drive them to the London airport. The car ride was a little over half an hour, and Ron was beginning to get antsy. When he asked how much longer it would be until they arrived, Hermione laughed and pointed out to him that they were about to get on a twenty hour flight.

"Twenty hours?!" Ron repeated, as if this were news to him. "Remind me again why we aren't just using portkeys."

"Because, Ron," Hermione explained patiently, not for the first time. "We couldn't get all of the permits to travel through all of the necessary countries. Besides, the less countries we go through, the more safe we'll be."

Ron sighed, dreading the long flight. When the car began to draw near the airport, Hermione launched into a speech about airport security: "In some muggle buildings, there are people called security officers. They are like police officers. They are around to protect everyone."

Hermione felt like she was teaching a kindergarten class. How could Ron and Ginny have lived their whole lives not knowing about security officers and airports? She smiled a little to herself. "Now, security officers at airports are known for being especially strict. They are not mean, but they will be watching everyone very carefully. Because of this, we cannot do any magic at all. In fact, you can't even have your wands on you!"

Both Ginny and Ron protested, but Harry nodded in understanding. Ignoring their reactions, Hermione continued: "Something else that muggles do is 'go through security.' Basically, you empty out your pockets and then you'll have to walk through big metal archways that check you for weapons or explosives. And it would probably look funny to the security guards if we all pull out a wand. So you can give them to me, and I will tell them they're knitting needles." She reached into her bag and pulled out a ball of yarn. "See, I've even brought this with me to seem convincing."

She stopped now and looked at them, "Did you understand everything I just told you?"

"Yes, Hermione, we're not thick." Ron said, annoyed that he was being lectured.

"What Ron means, Hermione, is thank you for the lesson. We'll be on our best behavior." Ginny promised, much more nicely than her brother.

Less than a minute later, the driver pulled up to the departures terminal. Glancing around to see that no one was watching, they all piled out of the sedan and pulled their luggage out too.

While waiting in line to check in for their flight, Ron and Ginny quickly became irritated at the long wait. Harry did too, a little, because he had gotten used to speedy magic. Hermione was the only one who remained patient.

Her patience had expired, though, when they got to the security line and she had to explain, once again, to Ron what to do.

"Honestly, Ron, if you had been listening the first time!"

"Hermione, you were sounding like Professor Binns! It's not my fault I dozed off for a second there."

Hermione gave Ron a withering look before sharply telling him what to do. Eventually, they made it through security, through their gate, and even onto the airplane. To Hermione's surprise, there were no close calls. They were all acting like muggles, even though it begrudged Ron to do so.

On the plane, time passed by very slowly. Hermione and Harry passed the first few hours of the flight by teaching Ron and Ginny how to play muggle games like Go Fish, 21, and Crazy 8s. After that, a movie began to play on the overhead monitors. Hermione eventually retreated into a book, Ginny doodled on a napkin, and Ron and Harry played muggle chess.

After hour twelve or so, they arrived at their layover airport. They were all eager to get off of the plane and walk around the airport for an hour before they had to board the next plane. Once they had settled into their second flight, the cabin lights had been dimmed and most of the passengers had fallen asleep.

Ron snored for about an hour, his head heavy on Hermione's small shoulder as she stared out the window, deep in thought. With one particularly loud rumble, he woke himself up. He shook his head at his unfamiliar surroundings, yawned loudly, and then pulled Hermione into a big bear hug.

"You are always so affectionate when you wake up," She observed. He peered at her, suspicious if that was a compliment or not. Turning her attention towards him, she gave him a kiss.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" He asked quietly, "You must be the only person on this plane who's awake."

Turning her head from him, she sighed, "I don't think I'd be able to fall asleep right now."

"Why not?" He asked, but she did not respond. He tried again, asking, "Is it because of your parents?"

Still she said nothing, and he was unsure if he should ask her again or just leave her alone. While he was debating with himself, she said, in barely more than a whisper, "What if they're not there?"

He took her hand in his, knowing how sensitive this subject was. "Why wouldn't they be?"

Tears sprung into her eyes and she frantically ranted, "What if they moved? Or died? Or what if… He… got to them? Or what if they are there, but I can't reverse the spell? Or I reverse it and they hate me? What if they don't want to come back to London?" Her tears were streaming down her face, and falling onto her sweater in heavy plops. His thumb stroked the back of her hand comfortingly.

Looking her in the eye, he tried to be as reassuring as possible, and said, "Hermione, everything will be okay. We'll go to the address you have in your agenda, and they'll be there waiting for us. You'll reverse the spell, and it will be the happiest day in their life. Everything will be okay. I promise."

* * *

 **A/N: Let me know what you think.**


	6. Chapter 6

**May 6, 1998**

Angelina paced in her room: back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. She had gotten dressed in steps. She put on her blouse and pants, and then paced around the room. Then she slipped on her socks and shoes, and then paced around the room. She slid on a sweater, and then paced around the room. Little by little, she did her hair and put on her makeup.

Butterflies in her stomach, she promised herself that this was the day that she would finally tell him. She couldn't put it off any longer or else he would find out another way. Immaturely, she wondered what would happen if she did just wait until someone else figured it out and told him. She quickly shook that thought out of her mind. He deserved to be told the truth, and she should be the one to tell him.

When she was finally ready, she apparated to Diagon Alley. The sky was blue and the weather was warm. Families were spread out, enjoying the morning. It was a nice day to tell someone something that was going to change their life.

Walking up to the joke shop, she saw that it was still closed. When Fred and George went into hiding a few months ago, they had boarded the windows and hung up a sign stating that they would reopen when "our friend Harry Potter destroys Moldyfart." Angelina smiled at their crudeness. Would George still be able to joke like that even though his brother was gone?

Next to the shop was a door that led to the stairs to the flat that George lived in, now by himself. She took the stairs and knocked at the door when she reached the top. She received no answer, so a few minutes later she knocked again. She turned the handle in her hand, and pushed the door open.

She gasped when she saw the state of the apartment. Everything was a mess. The dishes were piled in the sink, clothes were scattered all over the floor, alcohol bottles were strewn about the living room. While she was taking in her surroundings, George entered the living room. He was only wearing his boxers and Angelina was shocked to see how skinny and pale he was.

"What are you doing here?" He asked flatly. He sounded nothing like the happy person Angelina had always known.

"I, uh, came to check in on you," She stammered. "The place looks really nice," She said, trying to make a joke. A ghost of a smile swept his face.

"Cleaning hasn't been my top priority." He countered. He opened his arms and she closed the distance between them and walked into them.

"I can see that." She answered, "When was the last time you took a shower?"

"It's been awhile." He admitted, looking at the ground. "I probably stink, don't I?"

"Just a little," Angelina joked, "Why don't you take a shower and we can hang out?"

"Okay," He agreed passively before turning around and heading to the bathroom.

She looked around the living room and started to straighten things up. She sent all of the bottles to the recycling bin under the sink, she dusted the couch cushions, moved piles of clothing to the bedroom, and opened the curtains, probably for the first time in months. She was lighting a candle on the coffee table when George appeared again.

"You didn't have to clean up." He told her.

"I'm happy to help," She said with a smile. She held her arms open for him and they hugged again. They held onto each other for a few moments. She whispered to him, "I'm sorry I didn't come any sooner."

"I know you've been busy." He excused her and he pulled away from her.

"That's not a good reason," She confessed, looking him in the eye.

"Well, you're here now, and that's all that matters." He told her, squeezing her hands in his.

She sighed when he pulled her into another hug. She heard him say, "This is nice."

It was nice, she agreed. Surely, this was too sweet of a moment to ruin. She could always tell him tomorrow…

* * *

"Molly, come here!"

It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was beginning to set over the hill. Molly was sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying the beautiful view through the window as she repaired rips and tears in her family's laundry.

"What do you need?" She shouted back, not wanting to interrupt her productive sewing session.

"I need you!" Her husband called to her. Her eyes flicked towards the clock where her husband's hand was still pointing at "home" and not "mortal danger" so she knew it wasn't too urgent. With a sigh, she quickly directed all of the articles into the basket, and headed upstairs. When she got to the bedroom, the place from which Arthur's voice was calling, she opened the door and let out a giggle.

Candles were lit all around the room, filling the air with a lovely smell and bathing everything in a soft glow. Jazz music was playing quietly off of an old radio they had on the nightstand. In the middle of the bed, Arthur was laying on his side, wearing nothing but a pair of silky red boxer shorts.

"Arthur! My goodness, what a surprise!" Her face had turned bright red at the sight.

"Come here," He said in a seductive voice, patting the bed in front of him.

"Well, I can't!" She said, shaking her head and motioning towards downstairs. "I was in the middle of sewing—"

"Sewing can wait!"

"I need to start dinner."

"Honestly, Molly, I will eat newspaper for dinner if you just come here."

"But it's not even bed time yet!"

"Who cares!" He said, throwing his hands in the air. "We haven't been alone in ages! Let's take advantage of it."

Molly seemed to consider this for a minute and finally nodded. She came and sat on the edge of the bed. He got up on his knees and moved behind her, kissing her neck.

"Remember when we had just gotten together?" He whispered in her ear. "It didn't matter what time it was. Morning, afternoon, night. We were like bunny rabbits."

"I remember." She said with a giggle. His hands found the front of her shirt and started to unbutton her blouse.

"Forget about all of your plans for tonight, I'm going to take my time with this."

"They're already forgotten…."

* * *

After a long, boring flight, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione had arrived safely in Sydney, Australia. They went through Customs, picked up their bags, and hailed a taxi to take them to their hotel for the night. In Sydney time, it was a little past noon, but the four groggy friends were anxious to get some real sleep. Once they had arrived at the hotel and Hermione had checked them in, they received their room keys. The two rooms they reserved were on the same floor but down the hall from each other.

When they were in the elevator, on their way up to the third floor, Hermione broke their silence and stammered, "Um, so, regarding the sleeping arrangements, how should we, um—"

Ginny interrupted, linking her arm with Harry's, "Hermione, I think Harry and I would like to share a room." Ginny gave Harry a wink, making him blush. He felt his heart start to race at the thought of being alone in a hotel room with her.

"Look, you two, I know I said—" Ron started grumpily.

"Ronald, let them be! I cannot tolerate you reacting like a child every time they do something mildly romantic!" Hermione snapped angrily. Ron literally jumped in surprise at her sudden hostility but didn't say anything in response. Hermione handed her the envelope that had a set of keys in it and Ginny smiled victoriously to herself. When they exited the lift, they bid each other goodbye after agreeing to meet up at 7 pm for dinner.

* * *

Ron was perched on the chair by the desk, making no noise and pretending he didn't exist. This was actually a continuation of the plan that he had been following since they had got off the second plane and Hermione had felt it was necessary to unleash her wrath on him for smiling at a flight attendant.

Ron understood that Hermione was in an emotional state: she was stressed about the plan, uncomfortable because she wasn't home, nervous to be alone with him, afraid she wouldn't find her parents, afraid she _would_ find her parents because she had no idea what to stay, and exhausted because she still hadn't slept properly since the battle. (Isn't it silly that she had once accused him of having the emotional range of a teaspoon?)

So yes, Ron was trying to be as inconspicuous as possible so that he didn't anger the beast inside of her. He watched as she pattered around the hotel room, looking for something. When she found whatever it was, she walked into the bathroom but did not shut the door.

Thinking the coast was clear, Ron walked up to the TV to examine it. He knew what it was but he had never used one before; they were uncommon to find in magical homes. There was a big red button next to the screen so he pushed it. Instantly, a picture appeared and he could see little people moving on the screen. He was filled with awe like a child hearing a fairy tale for the first time.

Excitedly, he pushed the other buttons. First the volume: turning it up, turning it down, turning it up, turning it down. Then the channel button: slowly, slowly, and then rapidly.

"Ronald! What are you doing?!" He heard Hermione screech from the bathroom. "Why don't you just pick a damn channel?!"

His head snapped to the side to look at the open bathroom door. He looked like a raccoon that had just gotten a flashlight shined on it while it was going through someone's rubbish bin. He sighed and tried to remind himself of how patient she is when he's in a nasty mood.

Afraid to switch the channel again, he settled for the weather channel that it was already on. For the first time in his life, he understood his dad's fascination with muggles. They actually sat down in front of the telly everyday so they could learn what the weather would be! How odd! He watched this channel in fascination until the glowering witch appeared.

"You chose the weather channel." She said flatly with a hint of criticism and disappointment. It reminded Ron of the way Snape always addressed him.

"Yes?" He said, his answer coming out as more of a question than an affirmation.

"You chose the world's most absolutely, irrefutably mind-numbingly boring channel." She explained as if he were the most idiotic imbecile in existence.

"Well, merlin's beard, Hermione, you've been acting so pissy today that I was afraid to change the channel again in case you shot some god damn birds at me." The words had flown out of his mouth before he could stop them. He instantly regretted them.

"Oh, really, Ronald," She started as her voice rose to a high octave, "I've been acting pissy all day? Well heaven's forbid if I'm a little tired from organizing and herding a group of three clueless wizards across the world!"

"I get that you're tired but you don't need to be chewing my head off every second!" He squabbled at her.

"I have been nothing but pleasant to you, Ron!" She insisted, offended to her core at his accusation.

"Is that so, Hermione? _'Why don't you just pick a damn channel!'_ " He mimicked in an unflatteringly high pitched voice.

"I was trying to be helpful!" She maintained, purposely dropping the pitch of her voice to a normal human's.

"Bloody hell you were!" He disagreed.

"You are so infuriating!" She yelled, finally losing all of her limited patience.

"Oh my god, Hermione," He said, his frustration taking the best of him, his hands balling into fists. "If I didn't—" He cut himself off.

"If you didn't what, Ron?" Hermione said, challenging him to say whatever nasty thing he had caught himself from saying.

"If I didn't love you so fucking much I wouldn't be able to put up with you!"

She was silent for a minute before squeaking out: "Oh thank you, Ron! Thank you so much! The first time you tell me you love me, you're blacked out of your mind, and the second time you tell me, you're screaming and cursing! How did I ever get so bloody lucky!" She shouted before running into the bathroom and slamming the door loudly behind her.

* * *

Harry had the unnerving feeling that the bed was taking up the entire room. He tried not to look at it, but found it hard to look at anything else. And he tried especially hard not to think about it, or what he wanted to do in it, but was failing miserably.

"Do you like that headboard, then?" Ginny asked him, breaking his racing thoughts. She was now unpacking her bag and placing her clothes in the closet.

"Hmm?" He asked, quite sure he misheard her.

"You've been staring at the headboard for a full minute now."

"Oh, yea, it's nice." He said lamely. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Is there room for my stuff in there as well?" He asked her. She nodded so he unpacked as well. His heart leapt when he saw all of her colorful panties and bras in the drawer next to his folded up jumpers and jeans. He was nearly going into over drive at this point, so he blurted something about needing to use the loo and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"Okay, Harry, you can do this." He told his reflection in the mirror. "You can manage one night with Ginny alone… With a locked door… Knowing there will be no interrupt you…. Damn it, Harry! Get it together!"

He splashed his face with cool water and took a few deep breaths before entering the bedroom again. One look at Ginny, though, and all of his composure escaped him. She was standing in front of the mirror, shaking her long, auburn hair out of its braid. She was wearing nothing but a matching set of light blue panties and a bralette. For the second time, Harry was able to appreciate the beauty of her body. His eyes traced the gentle curve of her hips and lingered on her round, flawlessly shaped butt.

"You're staring," She said when she turned around to face him. He did not answer, though, and instead gazed at her beautiful breasts, wonderfully framed in her lacy bra.

"Still staring…" She sang as she sauntered over to the bed and jumped on it, posing herself seductively. She motioned for him to join her.

"Um, okay, let me just, uh, change into my pajamas…" He sputtered, distractedly whirling to the closet.

"Why? I'm just going to take them off of you."

The words sent a hot tingle down Harry's spine. When he turned around to look at her, she met his gaze with a blazing look. He smiled and moved closer to her. She popped up, grabbed ahold of his shirt, and pulled him down onto the bed. She quickly climbed on top of him, and pressed her mouth against his. Harry knew that this was a new kind of kiss. It was desperate, frenzied, and excited; she quickly deepened the kiss, and he greedily complied.

Lost in the moment, he grabbed her by the ribcage and flipped her underneath him. She gasped and looked at him with wide eyes. For a second, he was afraid that he had been too forceful but then she smiled at him. He smiled back and kissed her again. She grabbed his hand and placed it on her breast. He cupped it in his hand; it fit perfectly. She reached her hands behind his back to tug at his shirt but he put his hand over hers to stop her.

"I should leave it on," He whispered as he continued to hungrily kiss her neck.

"I'm almost naked and you should be too." She argued with him. He pulled his mouth away from her skin and looked at her seriously before slipping his t-shirt over his head. She gasped when she saw it: a dark bruise and a large lightning bolt scar over his heart.

"Is that where…?" She began to ask.

"The curse hit me? Yeah," He answered her, "It's pretty ugly, huh?"

"I think it's sexy. It reminds me of how brave and strong my man is." She whispered and then she pulled him back into a kiss. This was even more passionate, even more heated than the previous ones. He slipped his hand behind her back, unclipped her bra, and threw it off the bed. Looking at her breasts and cupping them in her hand, he ran his thumb gently over her erect nipples. She sighed into his mouth. Ginny could feel the physical expression of how much he was enjoying this pressing against her leg. She moved one of her hands to rub against him and he moaned her name quietly.

"Take off your pants," She commanded him. As quick as a whip, he rolled over onto his back and started to pull down his pants. They quickly got caught around his ankles because he forgot to take off his trainers beforehand.

"You see, Harry, you need to take off your shoes before the pants can come off." She teased him.

"You see, Ginny," Harry refuted as he yanked off his shoes, "I'm a little distracted."

Shoes off, pants discarded, and boxers pitched like a tent, he climbed back onto Ginny. His mouth millimeters away from hers, Ginny stopped him and whispered: "Is someone nervous about having sex with his girlfriend for the first time?"

Harry's eyes nearly popped out of his head: partially in surprise but mostly in excitement. He asked, "Is that what's happening right now?"

"Well it's not happening _right now,"_ She said sarcastically, "but it's about to happen,"

"Ginny, I'm serious. Are you sure you want this?" He said, pulling away from her, "I don't want to go too fast for you."

"Yes, Harry, I'm positive." She assured him, brushing her fingers along his face. "I've wanted this forever."

"Oh, thank Merlin!" He sighed before starting in on her once more.

* * *

 **A/N: I had originally described Harry and Ginny's sex scene in more detail, continuing throughout the actual deed itself, but I was worried that it would bump my rating form T to M so I had to cut it out.**

 **Next chapter we'll be tracking down Hermione's parents, and we'll be finding out Angelina's big secret.**

 **Let me know what you think.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Wow!" Harry said as he lay on his back, sprawled out naked on their hotel bed. "That was amazing."

Ginny was laying next to him, equally as naked. She smiled and snuggled up next to him. He ran his fingers up and down her bare spine, tickling her slightly.

"What did you think?" He questioned her, suddenly worried because she didn't automatically agree with him.

"It was wonderful." She assured him, breathing the words into his collar bone. He sighed in relief and closed his eyes, relaxing in the overwhelming joy he was feeling. He had just had sex with Ginny Weasley: the woman he had been in love with for years. The perfect woman for him. The woman with the most flawless body and most amazing soul.

It had been his first time but he was uncertain if it had been hers. She seemed so much more graceful, much more certain, and more at ease than he did. The things that she did to him made his eyes roll back in his head and made his legs quake in pleasure. She was new to his body but she was already an expert on how to use it. Perhaps it just came naturally to her.

Natural was not the way that Harry would describe his own role in the act. In fact, at some points, he felt like he was trying to unravel another sphinx's riddle because he had only a clue of what she wanted, and he barely had an idea where to start. Even in these moments of awkward fumbling, though, Ginny would just look at him lovingly and give him an encouraging smile, and they would find their way again.

But certainly, not all of the moments were awkward. He was actually quite proud of himself as he reflected on the times in which he pounded his body against hers, feeling her quiver against him, and hearing her moans get louder and more frequent. There was one instance when she pushed his scarred chest away from her and insisted that she needed a moment to catch her breath. For a split second, he was worried that he had hurt her. He had been awfully rough on her delicate frame. His fear was extinguished, though, when she propped herself up on her hands and knees, turned around and gave him the most melting "come to me" look. (Remembering this visual, Harry was almost ready for a second go.)

He did not know how long they made love to each other. The minutes melted together and time became irrelevant. From one position to the next they transitioned, eager to see how much they could discover about each other. It was only when Ginny started to tremble and beg for relief that Harry allowed himself to get to the point where he could no longer contain himself. Together, they ascended into a blissful nirvana, and then collapsed next to each other.

"That was amazing." He repeated.

She laughed musically and reminded him that he already said that. He moved his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. He admired her emerald green eyes and long, dark lashes.

"Why hadn't we done that sooner?" He joked, kissing her on the nose.

"Because someone decided to be a hero and spent a year tracking down Voldemort." She said, squinting at him with flirtatious accusation.

"Oh yea, I forgot about that." He played. "The immense pleasure you just gave me must have erased all of those horrible memories."

She folded her hands on his naked chest, and rested her chin on them. Their faces were inches away from each other.

"Were all of your memories from the trip that horrible?" She quietly inquired. He nodded, and she saw them flood into his eyes. His happiness from their love making had disappeared and he quickly filled with darkness.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I shouldn't have—" She began to apologize but he cut across her words.

"It's fine," He said, quietly. He wiggled out from underneath her and climbed off the bed.

"No, I'm sorry, please come back to bed. I didn't mean to ruin it!" Ginny pleaded, filled with guilt at her tactlessness. She was surprised when she saw him smile at her as he pulled on his t-shirt and boxers. He ambled back over to her and sat on the bed next to her.

"Don't worry, Gin, I'm not upset." He reassured her. He opened his arms and she crawled into them, still completely nude. "Why don't you get dressed? I want to talk about something."

"Already tired of looking at me?" She acted crestfallen, looking away from him.

"No!" He exclaimed, "It's the exact opposite! As long as I can see these," He said, gently taking her breasts into his hands, "I won't be able to form a coherent thought."

His explanation made her smile, so she walked over to the closet, pulled out one of his t-shirts, and slipped it on. This was almost as sexy to him if she had remained naked. How long had he pictured exactly this: her svelte body draped in one of his shirts and her hair tousled from making love. She joined him on the bed, and curled up into his arms again, pulling him away from his daydreams.

"What did you want to talk about?" She asked him, wide eyed and innocent looking.

"Did I ever tell you what Hermione, Ron, and I were looking for when we took off?" He asked her, suddenly very serious. She shook her head so he stated: "Horcruxes."

"What?" She asked, not understanding the word. And with that, he launched into his story.

He started by telling her about the horcruxes but then realized he had, in a way, picked up in the middle of the story. He started over, beginning with Merope Gaunt and Tom Riddle Sr., and told her about Voldemort's troubled life and his methods of preservation. Then, he started talking about himself, and revealed the shared thoughts, the visions, the pains in his scar, and even the fact that a part of Voldemort's soul was inside of him. He told her about his lessons with Dumbledore, the memories he had been invited into, his quest with Slughorn, and then Dumbledore's final assignment. He told her about the relentless days of planning and searching and scouring every bit of knowledge they had. He told her about the snatchers, the Malfoy Mansion, Pettigrew's asphyxiation, and Hermione being tortured. He cried when he described Dobby's death, and he gritted his teeth when he talked about Griphook. He described their journey into Gringott's and their flight out of it. He included his discussion with Aberforth, and the joy he had been filled with when he saw Ginny again, for the first time in many months, and the warmth he felt when he held her. It was only when he was approaching his ascent into the forest that he took a break.

He looked at her for the first time, and saw that tears had been streaming down her face, and her eyes were widened in shock.

"And then what happened?" She whispered.

"And then I greeted death like an old friend." And with urgency, he described the memory of Snape's that revealed he would have to die. He recounted how he could feel each heart beat, each breath of air, and how fear had numbed him. He told her about kissing the snitch, turning the stone, and seeing his parents and god father again, and how they escorted him to his death. He told her that he had a choice to come back or not, and that he chose to come back to finish the war once and for all. He told her that Narcissa had lied for him, and that Hagrid's tears fell on his face as he was carried to Hogwarts. He told her that Neville, the boy who could have been, had destroyed the last horcrux, so Harry was finally able to defeat Voldemort.

And by the end of his retelling, he had collapsed into a mess of tears, snot, and shaky breaths. She wrapped herself around him, her tears joining his, as they rocked back and forth, comforting each other and reminding each other that it was finally over.

* * *

George must have been tired because as soon as Angelina had changed his sheets and washed his blankets, he collapsed into his bed and began to snore. As she listened to him sleep, she picked all the clothes off of the floor and sent them through the laundry. After putting them away, she moved to the kitchen. She washed dishes, wiped down counter tops, and cleaned the stove. By the time she was done, the flat was clean enough that she would welcome a trip from Mrs. Weasley.

Looking at the late hour on the clock, she decided to spend the night there, as she had done so many times in the past. She peeled off her jeans, took off her bra, and climbed into bed next to George. Without waking up, he felt her proximity and wrapped himself around her. Listening to the steady rhythm of his snores, Angelina relaxed into his embrace and drifted off to sleep as well.

* * *

After locking herself in the bathroom and taking a shower, Hermione changed into comfortable pajamas, slipped on her eye mask, and attempted to get some sleep - all while ignoring Ron's frequent attempts to make up. When she had finally stopped tossing and turning, and had fallen into a restful enough sleep, Ron lay on the bed - careful not too get too close to his angry girlfriend - and drifted to sleep too. Neither of them woke up until they heard a loud banging on the door. Ron jumped up, grabbed his wand, and shouted: "Who's there?"

"Merlin's beard, Ron, it's just us. Now put your clothes on and open up the door." Ginny chided through the door. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, feeling his heart start to calm, he pulled the door open. Yawning, he told them, "Sorry, we were sleeping."

Ginny walked in the room as Ron held the door open for them. She made her way over to Hermione and began to gently wake up the sleeping grumpy. Ron tapped Harry's arm and motioned with his head to the hallway so the boys stepped out of the room.

"Any chance you and I can share a room tonight?" Ron asked Harry, who had a big goofy grin on his face.

"Not a chance in the world." Harry replied quickly, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands in his pockets.

"Why the bloody hell not?" Ron interrogated, narrowing his eyes and inspecting his happy best friend scrupulously.

"Well, I could tell you why but I rather value my life—" Harry joked. Ron swatted at him and he jumped out of the way.

"Harry, I'm serious, mate," He pleaded, "Switch with me!"

"I wouldn't switch with you even if you were dying."

"I am dying!" Ron cried dramatically. "Hermione is going to murder me. We got into a huge fight and I'm surprised I even woke up from my nap."

Just then, the two girls opened the door. The boys jumped in surprise, startled because they were caught in their private discussion.

"Hi Harry," Hermione said with a smile but pointedly ignored Ron. Harry felt a small amount of relief. Hopefully a few hours of sleep meant that Hermione will be more even tempered than she was this morning, despite her irritation with Ron. The four made their way downstairs and, after asking for recommendations from the concierge, they walked down the bustling street to an Italian restaurant.

Dinner was rather uneventful. Hermione reminded them, for what felt like the one millionth time, about their plans for the next day and did her best to ignore Ron. When they were leaving the restaurant, Ginny said that she and Harry wanted to check out the shops along the busy street. They made their way down the sidewalk, arms wrapped around each other, the consummate image of happiness.

Ron and Hermione did not follow them but instead started back to the hotel, silently walking awkwardly next to each other. Ron had long ago given up his attempts to reconcile and was determined to simply not make things worse. It was to his bewilderment, then, when they were in the lift and he heard Hermione sniffling.

"Are you crying?" He asked her as she turned her face away from him. When the doors opened, she raced down the hall, opened their door, and retreated into the bathroom again.

"Hermione, you need to come out here and we need to talk about this." He said forcefully. His anger was rising up because of this game they were playing.

"I don't want to argue anymore, Ronald." He heard her sob.

"Hermione, I don't want to argue either…" He said gently, "Please come out."

To his relief, the knob twisted and before he knew it, she had flung herself in his arms. His shoulder quickly dampened from her tears and he could feel her small body heaving inside of his arms. He hushed her and rocked her, trying to comfort her. His insides squirmed guiltily as he realized that he was the one who had caused her so much pain.

"I'm so sorry…" He whispered into her ear. He heard her murmur that she was sorry too. Eventually, they made their way onto the bed, where she perched on his lap. A few resilient tears were still falling from her eyes but her violent sobs had subsided.

"Is all of this because of what I said?" Ron asked nervously, hoping that he wouldn't be poking the fire but needing to know the answer. She shook her head and her chin quivered.

"Then what is going on?" He pressed. And just like that, she burst into tears again. He pulled her in and held her until she calmed down. She tried unsuccessfully to say something, took a few deep breaths, and finally blurted out: "I just thought it would be different."

"You thought what would be different?" He questioned.

"This!" She exclaimed, "Us! I thought we would get together and everything would finally be happy! No more arguing, no more yelling! I thought it would be different…"

"And why on earth would you think that?" He said with a laugh. She didn't share his humor and glowered at him. He continued, "I think it's pretty silly of you to assume that things would suddenly change."

She huffed and crossed her arms, turning away from him slightly. He gently placed his hand on the small of her back and kissed her cheek; it was salty from her tears.

"Hermione," He explained softly to her, "During all of our arguments and apologies is when I fell in love with you. I know we have our highs and lows, but that's how it's always been. That's why we're perfect for each other."

"Do you mean that?" She sniffled.

"With my whole heart." He promised her solemnly, "I wouldn't want it any other way."

"No," She clarified, "Do you mean it when you say that you're in love with me?"

He smiled at her. "Of course I do."

"Then say it." She told him, "Now that you're not drunk, and you're not angry, tell me you love me."

"Hermione Jean Granger, I love you with every ounce of my being."

"And I love you."

* * *

"Well, that was awkward!" Ginny said loudly while she was washing her face in the bathroom. Harry was changing for bed in the other room.

"Yea, I'm used to it, though." Harry yelled back

"So they're always arguing like that?" She asked him as she patted her face with a washcloth and exited the bathroom. Her face broke into a wide grin when she saw Harry, naked once again, lying on his back with his arms behind his head.

"Wow, Harry, I don't remember you bringing your broomstick along. But now that I see it, can I take it for a ride?"

* * *

"Good morning, beautiful." George said as Angelina began to stir awake. He kissed her neck and ran his hand along her ribcage. She giggled and replied, "Good morning."

"It was a lovely surprise to see you when I woke up." He said, trailing his kisses from her neck to her collar bone and starting down between her breasts. She sighed at the touch.

"It reminded me of when you would spend the night all the time," He said as his hand made its way down her body, along her hips, and between her legs. "Except we actually slept this time…"

She was thoroughly enjoying the feeling of him against her, but she suddenly remembered that she had something to tell him. The guilt of her secret dropped into her stomach heavily. She placed her hand on top of his, and moved it away from her. He looked at her curiously and then broke out into a mischievous grin.

"Come on, Ang," He said as he slid his body lower down on the bed. He lifted the bottom of her tank top and kissed her lower abdomen. "I know exactly where you like to be kissed…"

"Not today, babe," She said, sliding her hands underneath his chin and lifting it so they could make eye contact.

"But it's been so long!" He protested.

"The last time was on Valentine's day." She said thoughtfully.

"That's right," He said, yanking his chin out from her hands, pushing her legs apart, and beginning to kiss the inside of her thighs. "I remember because you wore that sexy red thing and I ripped it off of you."

"George, I said not today." Angelina said sharply, closing her legs. Hearing the edge in her voice, his head whipped up quickly.

"What's up your ass, Angelina?" He said irritatedly.

"What do you mean?!" She countered, pulling herself up so that she was sitting upright now. "I must have just said ten times that I wasn't interested right now and you still keep pushing forward!"

"Are you not into this anymore?" He said sitting up, a look of hurt spreading across his face. He turned away from her. She cursed to herself silently. She could have been nicer, she thought. Of course he's sensitive right now: he had just lost his best friend in the whole world.

"No, babe, of course not." She said as she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. He shrugged them off, stood up and started pacing around the room.

"Then what is it? Did you meet someone else? Did you change your mind about me?" He asked insecurely, "I used to get you wet with a single touch but now we haven't fucked in months and you're pushing me away!"

"George, please, it's nothing like that." Angelina pleaded, her eyes filling with tears. At this, George's face fell. Concern filled him. He had never seen Angelina cry before.

"Then what is it?" He asked her, scared as hell at what she was going to say.

"There's something I have to tell you." She said, the tears now streaming down her face.

"Well, god damn, Angelina, spit it out!" He exploded, impatient with her procrastination.

Her hands were laced together, as if she were praying. She looked down at them, took a deep breath, and finally told him her secret: "I'm pregnant."

 **A/N: I received quite a few messages about my omission from the previous chapter, so I gave you a little extra in this one.**

 **And surprise! Who saw it coming?**

 **Let me know what you think.**

 **Nene**


	8. Chapter 8

Ron was beginning to think that he really did have an emotional range of a teaspoon (or at least, a much smaller emotional range than Hermione had) because, they had only been up for an hour and he had already seen her run around the room like a mad woman as she tried to gather their things for the day, wink flirtatiously at him as she picked out her bra and panties for the day before retreating into the bathroom to change, break into tears as she anguished over every possible mishap that could happen, jump up and down like a child in excitement of seeing her parents after over a year, and finally, stare at herself blankly in the mirror as the overwhelming weight of their reality crashed over her. And now, sitting in the back of the cab, she was sitting as stoically as a statue: arms crossed, lips pressed together, staring out the window.

He wondered, and slightly dreaded, which Hermione he would see once they got to their destination: 344 Mandalay Way, also known as the Wilkins's Residence. Through their years at school together, he had gotten to know her very well and he had seen what he thought were her virtues and her flaws. He saw her brilliance: her top marks, her vast knowledge of useful information, her quick wit. He saw her goodness: her kindness to all creatures, her willingness to make friends, her loyalty to him even though he didn't deserve it. He saw all of the things that made him fall in love with her, but he saw her shortcomings as well. He saw her lack of coordination, her fiery temper, her condescension towards other ways of thinking. But, ironically, he fell in love with those parts of her too.

On their journey in the past year, he discovered different strengths and weaknesses. Away from the castle, classrooms, and quidditch field. He saw her the wheels in her brain spin faster than ever; she had thought of ingenious solutions in impossible situations. He saw her find the silver lining in some very dark, rainy clouds. He saw her determination as she read, reread, checked, and rechecked passages, runes, and translations. He saw her fright, heard her blood curdling screams as she was tortured by Bellatrix.

And through all of these high and lows that he had witnessed, she had maintained her composure. Sure, there had been some tears, a few shouts, and more than a few bickers, but she had always been a relatively stable rock in his tumultuous oceans.

But that had all changed in these past 48 hours. The Hermione he had known was replaced by a crazed, unstable lunatic. Not true, he corrected himself, but it sure felt like it. He was trying his best to be sympathetic to her because he knew that she was going through all of the emotions she had been pushing away for their entire journey. The reality that she had wiped the memories of her parents and banished them to Australia had finally settled on her, and this was her first opportunity to process it.

The cab began to slow; the four friends could feel the vehicle braking. Hermione took a deep breath and she looked frantically out the window, from house to house. She climbed out of the back seat, leaving the others to gather the bags and pay the tab. She felt like a ghost had passed through her when her eyes fell upon the numbers "344".

She was not sure what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't what she saw in front of her. The house they owned in London was a brick townhouse with Ivy growing up the front, and a large stoop instead of a front yard. This, quite oppositely, was a bright yellow A frame with a large green lawn in front of it. Bright flowers decorated the windowsills, a bird bath was stationed in the yard, and a travertine path led to the green front door.

"Are you ready?" She heard Ron's voice ask from behind her. She shook her head; she was certainly not ready. The never-ending refrain started over in her head: _You have the wrong address. You didn't find them. Even if you did, you won't be able to reverse it. Something went wrong. And even if you can reverse it, they will never forgive you._

She turned around to face Ron and said, "Well, this has been a nice trip. I'm glad we were able to confirm that this address exists. Now, let's go back to the hotel and we can think of the next step." She offered a very fake smile and began to walk towards Harry and Ginny, who were down the street aways, admiring a rose bush.

Ron gently grabbed her arm as she walked by him so she turned to face him.

"Let's go?" He repeated in disbelief, "But you haven't even seen your parents yet."

"I know but this is just step one in my plan. There are a few more things I have to do before I can—"

"Hermione, you're just nervous. Don't put it off!"

Hermione gave him a very sour look and began to form a rebuttal when a movement in the window of the A frame house caught her eye. She gasped.

"What?" Ron asked, turning around to look at the house as well. As they watched, a man in his early forties with short, dark hair and reading glasses opened the curtains. Behind him, a slender woman was setting the table for breakfast.

"That's them!" Ron exclaimed excitedly. "Hermione, it's really them!" He spun around and when he met Hermione's eyes, he noticed a difference in them. The frenzy and self-doubt had left and now, in there place, was calmness and certainty. Once she had seen her parents, she knew she could not leave again: she needed to talk to them, to hold them, to tell them how much she loved them.

"Oh Ron," She said, a huge smile filling her face, "It _is_ them!" She gave a funny, excited little jump and then wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm going to do it!" She said, nodding her head firmly. She took a few steps, turned back to look at Ron quickly, and then marched up the travertine path and knocked on the green front door.

* * *

One of Wendell's favorite things about their new house was that there was a huge window right next to the breakfast nook. Every Sunday morning, he ceremoniously threw open the curtains, sipped on his coffee, and watched the birds bathing in the fountain in the yard, or perching on the feeder. Today, a bright green and red hummingbird was flittering around the sugar water feeder.

"Breakfast is ready!" Wendell heard his wife call from behind him in a happy, sing song voice. When he turned, however, his serene mood instantly curdled.

"Monica!" Wendell gasped.

"What's wrong?" She asked, as she was placing a bowl of fruit on the table. When she saw three sets of dishes and flatware, she understood.

"You did it again!" He exclaimed and she felt her stomach turn.

"I… I didn't mean… I don't…" She stammered, trying to find an excuse but not being able to. She was distracted while setting the table that morning and even a moment's distraction could lead to a mistake…

"You are really starting to worry me." She could see the concern on his face, the question of her sanity.

"I'm sorry, my love," She said, taking a few steps back into the kitchen and away from the window. She waved her hand in the air nonchalantly, "I had a lot on my mind this morning and—"

"That's what you always say! 'I was distracted. I wasn't looking. I didn't realize you had already done it.' Setting the table, ordering dinner, calling for reservations." His voice was higher pitched than it normally was as he followed her into the kitchen, "There are only two of us here, Monica. You and me! No one else!"

He walked up to her and his hands gripped her shoulders. He did not shake her or hurt her in any way, but he held her firmly and looked her directly in the eye. "Do you think there is someone else here? Do you see someone? Do you hear voices?"

That's not the right way to describe it, she thought to herself.

"No!" She said, brushing off his hands. She faked a laugh but her stomach turned uneasily. "I'm sorry, Wendell, darling. It was just an accident." She leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "It won't happen again, I promise."

He looked at her for a moment. He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something but then there was a knock on the door.

"We are not done talking about this." He said firmly before he turned away.

Monica sighed as she sank into a chair. She hated seeing him that upset and she resented herself for creating the problem. She sincerely meant at least one of the things that she said: she would not let it happen again. Every time she felt the urge to set the three placemats, or call in a reservation for three, or to purchase three film tickets, she would suppress it. She had tried in the past, but she will try harder from now on. For the sake of her husband.

She was uncertain where the urge came from, or even when it started. Had she been born with it or had it developed? She could not remember. All she knew is that she had the overwhelming feeling that someone was missing, and if she set a place for them, maybe they would appear.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Wendell opening the door. She heard him conversing with a familiar voice at the front door. Well, it sounded familiar, but she couldn't match a name to it…

Well, she thought dryly to herself, if whoever-it-is wants to stay for breakfast, the table is already set.

* * *

George's hands fell to his side, and his mouth formed a perfectly shaped O. He stared at her with a blank expression before smiling confidently.

"You're joking." He said as a statement instead of a question. He squinted his eyes at her suspiciously. "You're just getting back at me for pestering you."

She continued to stare at him seriously. She did not move, she did not smile, and she did not confirm that she was kidding.

"Angelina, tell me you're joking." He commanded, his panic starting to rise again inside of his chest. She shook her head solemnly.

"What?" He squeaked out, his voice having risen multiple octaves. He trailed off: "Who is…?"

"Are you asking me who the father is?" Angelina interrupted angrily, her voice as sharp as razors.

"I'm sure as hell not asking who's coming over for brunch!" He replied refractorily.

"You are the father, George!" She exclaimed, exasperated.

"Are you sure?" He pleaded desperately, hoping, for the first time, that Angelina had been sleeping with someone else.

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" Her voice had sunk to a deep, low growl.

"You're right." He said, covering his eyes with one of his hands. He sat down onto the bed and lay back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

She stopped pacing and sat next to him. She ran her fingers through his hair as they sat in silence. She felt him push his head against her hand, enjoying the feeling. He uncovered his face and finally broke the quiet by asking, "How far along are you?"

"Almost four months." She said as she watched his eyes widen.

"So… The baby will be here in five months." He stated matter-of-factly, sitting up and folding his hands in his lap. She could see the wheels turning in his head before he questioned, "Valentine's day?"

"It must have been. That was the only time I saw you that month." She said calmly; she had already come to terms with all of this."

"You know, Angelina, I meant it when I said I didn't need anything for Valentine's day." He chided. She had been wondering when he would start making jokes.

"Very funny." She replied sarcastically, not finding humor in the situation at all.

"I feel bad because I didn't get you anything!" He continued.

With a sigh, she said, "Seriously, George, can we cut out the jokes?"

"Sorry, Ang." He apologized, sobering. They fell into a deep silence. Angelina was expecting George to explode at any second. To jump off the bed and run out the door. To scream into a pillow. To pull his hair out. To punch the wall. Instead, he calmly asked, "How long have you known?"

"A few weeks."

"I wish I had known sooner." He said quietly.

"I would have told you sooner but I didn't want to send it in an owl, and I had no idea where you were so I couldn't visit you."

"I know."

"Do you know the sex?"

"I won't know for another month."

"I wonder what Fred would have said." He pondered aloud.

"He would've said we're bloody idiots for getting pregnant." Angelina said with a small laugh, practically seeing the scene in her mind.

He looked at her for what felt like the first time in months. When she had come into his flat the previous day, he had just been excited to see someone that didn't have the same hair color as his dead brother. And then, with just a little encouragement, he had fallen asleep. He hadn't bothered to ask how she's been or what she's been up to. He admitted to himself that he didn't even care at the moment.

This morning, when they woke up, he was overwhelmed with the feeling of having someone to touch. Someone warm and soft. Someone he could lose himself in. He was focused on her body; her soul held no interest to him at the time. He felt ashamed of himself as he remembered his insistence.

But now, looking at her, he knew that if he had paid more attention, he would have noticed something was amiss. Her normally smiling face was stoic. Her friendly demeanor was now serious. There were shadows under her eyes. She was not glowing in the way that pregnant women often do.

She felt his eyes lingering on her face. "Why are you staring at me?"

'You look tired,' He wanted to say but he knew that she hated hearing that.

"I've missed you." He said quietly. He stroked the side of her face with his palm, and she closed her eyes at the touch. He heard a soft sigh escape from her lips. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, lingering with her lips on her smooth, warm skin.

"So…" He said in a low voice.

"So what?"

"What are we going to do?" Her eyes opened at his question.

"What are _we_ going to do?"Angelina repeated.

"That's what I said."

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Well, I have a check up on Friday. I guess that's the next step."

"Can I go?"

"Of course you can go." She smiled for the first time that morning. She looked suddenly familiar again, like the happy girl he had been dating. "Can I tell you something?"

"Angelina, I swear to God if you tell me that this has all been a joke then I am going to—"

"George, it's still not a joke!" Angelina said, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, okay, not a joke!"

"You're taking this news a lot better than I thought you would."

"What did you expect me to do? Pull my hair out? Scream into a pillow?" How did he know that she had expected just that?

"No," She lied, "but I wasn't expecting kisses and queries about my check ups."

"Angelina, listen," George started, reaching forward and grabbing her hand. He pulled it into his lap. She watched his face grow serious and she was suddenly afraid that he would tell her that he changed his mind, and he did not want anything to do with the baby.

She felt a tear land on their intertwined hands but when she looked at him, she saw that he had a small smile.

"Part of me - no, _half_ of me - died on Saturday." He stopped himself. He clenched his jaw, tears streaming down his cheeks. He brought his other hand up to his mouth, balled it in a fist and bit his knuckles. After a moment, he looked back at Angelina. "And the rest of me has spent the last three days wanting to die too." He let out a sob and wiped his running nose with the back of his hand. Angelina's eyes filled with tears too at the sight of his distress. "Knowing that you are - we are - having a baby gives me something to live for."

"George," She whispered, running her hand across his back soothingly, "You have a million things to live for."

—

 **A/N: Let me know what you guys think. Coming up next, or soon: Dursleys, Grimmauld place, and Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Not necessarily in that order!**

 **Addendum: I like reading your reviews, especially when you tell me what you like. I have an outline of what is going to be happening next, but I take your reviews into accounts. Someone already commented that they would like to see more of Harry and Ginny, and I will definitely keep that in mind as I continue the story.**

 **Nene**


	9. Chapter 9

When Hermione walked out of the A-frame house, her eyes were swollen from tears but her face wore a huge smile. She quickly told Ron, Harry, and Ginny that she had successfully reversed the spells, and, while her parents were confused, they understood and forgave her. She asked her friends to leave her with her parents so that they could continue working things out, and they all agreed to have brunch together in the morning.

The cab ride back was practically silent, even though they all had a lot on their minds; they could not discuss their thoughts in front of their muggle driver. Once they got back to downtown Sydney, Ron insisted that he needed a nap in his hotel room while Harry and Ginny spent the day sight seeing.

The recently reunited couple had a wonderful day in each others' company. They went anywhere and everywhere they could, delighting in all of the sights and experiences. Standing at the harbor, with the Opera House in the background, Harry thought that Ginny must be an angel sent to earth because she was so beautiful. Winding their way through the botanical gardens, Ginny wondered if she was dreaming. Browsing in an expensive boutique, Harry saw Ginny eyeing an expensive black dress and he offered to buy her whatever she wanted, but she only laughed.

Finally, when their feet hurt from walking, their lips were swollen from kissing, and their bellies ached from laughing, they wound their way back to the hotel. Ginny went straight to the room, but Harry said he wanted to check in on Ron.

Once inside, Ginny went to the shower and turned the hot water all the way up. She slipped out of her clothes and into the piping water. She lathered herself up, and rinsed off all of the sweat and dirt from their adventurous day. After she dried off, she strolled out of the bathroom, seductively calling, "Oh Harry…?"

But to her surprise, Harry was not there. She sighed disappointedly, assuming that he was still with Ron. She stayed in the nude, and blow dried her hair until it fell around her shoulders in a soft, crimson curtain.

When he still hadn't appeared thirty minutes later, she began to worry before reminding herself that she was thinking of Harry Potter, the boy who defeated the most evil wizard of all time. Whatever he was up to, she was sure he was fine.

She finally gave up on her seduction attempt, and slipped into comfortable sweatpants and a jumper. She turned on the wireless and tuned in to a local station while she cleaned up the room. She smiled when she realized how like her mother she was.

The sound of the door opening made her turn around. Harry was standing in the doorway, sweating and out of breath.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, suddenly worried by his ragged appearance. Out of breath, he walked over to her, kissed her on the cheek, and panted: "Yes… I'm sorry that I…. Took so long to get back… I wanted to be quick…."

"I thought you were just going to Ron's." Ginny said, confused.

"I changed my mind," He said, holding up a bag. "I went to go get this for you."

A smile filled her face when she recognized the logo of the expensive boutique that they had spent almost an hour in earlier. He handed it to her, and she pulled out the black dress that she liked.

"Oh Harry, you shouldn't have!" She exclaimed.

"Well, I saw how much you lit up when you were looking at it." He replied, "I couldn't help myself."

She threw her arms around him and gave him a big, passionate kiss. When she pulled away, he said, "Check the bag. There's something else in there."

"What?!" She gasped in surprise. Turning back to the bag, she pulled out a pair of black, heeled sandals.

"I wasn't sure what size to get you but the shop attendant said—"

"They're perfect!" She said, giggling like a school girl as she sat on the bed and tried them on. "You are so sweet, Harry!"

When she looked at him, she saw him grinning like a mad man. Seeing her so happy filled him with joy as well.

"Listen, Ginny, I was thinking," Harry started, "It's about time that I take you on a real date. I've made reservations at a nice restaurant at eight."

"That would be wonderful, Harry." She said sweetly. She opened her arms for him and he gladly complied. They leaned back on the bed and kissed each other tenderly. She began to climb on top of him when she caught a glimpse at the clock. With a gasp, she realized that she had less than thirty minutes to get ready for their fancy dinner. She jumped up, mumbled something about losing track of time, and ran over to the bathroom.

Harry sighed, lay on his back for a few minutes, and then decided he, too, should start getting ready. He passed Ginny on his way to the shower and he took a minute to admire the way she was curling her hair with her wand.

"Funny, I don't remember being taught that particular spell," He said

"Harry Potter, I know lots of spells that you've never even heard of." She teased him.

"Oh is that right?" He said, attempting to get closer to her but she whipped around and pointed her wand at him. He jumped back in surprise. With a smile, she redirected her aim to a small glass on the counter and said, " _Avifors_!"

The glass transformed into a small, delicate blue bird. Harry held out his hand and the bird flew onto his outstretched finger. It looked at him quizzically, tweeting curiously. Ginny smiled as she watched a tender look develop on Harry's face. With a swipe of her wand, the bird transfigured back to glass. Harry lunged and barely caught it in time. He laughed, put the glass back on the counter, kissed Ginny quickly, and then retreated to the shower.

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Darling, of number sixteen Lilac Way, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They had recently moved to Bristol so that their teenaged son, Danny, could attend a very prestigious preparatory school in hopes of attending Oxford University in the upcoming years.

Mr. Victor Darling, a round man with a bushy mustache and a short, stout neck, had recently started to work as a manager at the city's largest bank. Mrs. Patricia Darling, a skinny, lanky woman, preferred to stay home and spy on their new neighbors.

They had been living in the area for a little less than a year, and had found themselves very comfortable there. Their neighbors seemed to be normal, average people. Danny was doing well in school, Victor was properly feared by his employees, and Patricia had managed to maintain her garden to a much higher standard than anyone else on their street.

One night, when the three had gathered around the dinner table for a healthy dinner of salad and grilled chicken, there was a familiar noise that made them all jump.

 _Tap tap tap tap._

"Vernon!" Patricia gasped, dropping the tea cup she had been holding. It fell to the ground with a loud shatter.

Victor's face turned an ugly shade of red. That was a noise he hated more than anything because it meant… And how dare his wife call him Vernon! Especially if _they_ were listening.

They all sat at the table, petrified. Victor stood up and turned off the lights. He motioned for his wife and son to go into the living room to hide. They obeyed and sat on the couch. Victor picked up the poker from the fireplace and held it menacingly in his hands. Patricia shrieked when she heard a _hoot hoot_ coming from the fireplace.

"Shhh…" Danny said, attempting to calm his mother. "What if it's good news?"

"Good news?!" Victor barked in mockery. "There is no such thing as good news when an owl brings it!"

"Well, the bloody thing won't leave us alone until we take its letter."

Danny stood up and began to approach the fireplace, "No, Dudley, don't!"

"Watch what you're saying, PATRICIA!" Victor snapped, emphasizing his wife's name. She slapped a hand to her mouth and looked around the room as if searching for someone who could have overheard her.

"Danny, what if it's from You-Know-What's-It!"

"Dad, I really doubt You-Know-Who would send an owl to politely knock on our window. If he had found us, we would probably be dead already, or at least being tortured."

Patricia let out a horrible gasp at the idea. Danny slowly approached the fireplace, and moved the metal spark shield away from it.

"Hoo hoo," He called gently to the owl. Sensing its welcome, a common brown owl flew from the chimney and into the living room. It perched on the sofa arm, causing Patricia to jump far away from it. It held out its left leg; a letter was attached. Danny, who had never touched an owl before, cautiously reached forward, keeping an unwavering eye on his sharp, prominent beak.

After the letter was detached, Danny saw that it was addressed: "To the 'Darlings'"

"I think it's from him!" Danny said excitedly. He looked up to his father looked furious, and his mother looked terrified.

"What are you waiting for? Read the damn letter!" His dad demanded.

Danny cleared his voice and read aloud:

 _Dear 'Darling' Family,_

 _I just wanted to let you know that it is all over. He is gone. It is now safe to return, or you can stay where you are. It really doesn't matter; it is up to you._

 _Sincerely,_

 _'_ _Humphrey'_

Victor and Patricia quickly began bashing the letter. Criticizing the sender, lamenting the inconvenience it would be to move, complaining that they changed their whole lives and in return only received four sentences.

Danny rolled his eyes; his parents really got on his last nerve sometimes. When they were distracted, he pulled out a pen and wrote on the back of the letter:

 _H,_

 _Glad to hear you made it. Can we get together soon? I want to talk._

 _D_

He folded it up, and slowly tied it to the owl's leg. His parents were so caught up in their complaints that they hadn't even noticed. He left them there in the living, ascended the stairs, and locked himself in his bedroom.

* * *

At a quarter to eight, Ginny and Harry were ready to go.

Ginny was modeling her new black dress and heels. Her lips were red, her eyelids were glittery, and her lashes were long and black. Her hair was curled and pinned half up. Harry could have sworn that she was a Veela.

Harry had luckily packed a black button down shirt but the only thing he could pair with it were some black jeans. They were clean, and so it didn't look too bad.

They were about to leave when Harry acted surprised.

"Oh no, Gin, I forgot!" He said, obviously up to something.

"What did you forget?" She said, going along with it.

"I forgot to give you this." He said, with a devilish grin. He pulled out a long, rectangular felt jewelry box. Her mouth dropped in surprise.

"Harry, honestly, you didn't need to!"

"I know, Ginny, but I wanted to! I missed you so much this past year. It just feels so good to be around you, to kiss you, to touch you, to buy you presents! It brings me happiness to give you gifts." He passionately accounted. Noticing it was still closed he said, "Go on, open it!"

She smiled at him mischievously before popping the box open. Inside was a beautiful, brilliantly shining, diamond necklace. Not with just one diamond, but a whole row of them.

"Oh, Harry..." She sighed, not even knowing the words to describe how beautiful the necklace was or how touched she was by the gesture. "I can't possibly accept such an expensive gift!"

"Of course you can!" He said, coming closer to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "Please, let me spoil you just a little bit. You've been so wonderful to me."

She smiled at him and leaned in to give him a kiss. This was not a wild kiss, but a gentle, loving kiss. She tried to demonstrate how much she loved him and she felt him receive it. She finally pulled away, with one last soft peck.

He motioned for her to turn around, and he draped the necklace around her slender neck. When the clasp clicked closed, he leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the back of her neck. Goosebumps erupted across her skin, and she seriously considered skipping dinner. He must have read her mind because he quietly whispered, "We can make love again tonight. But first, we must go to the restaurant."

She turned around to face him, and gave him a big, happy smile. He took her hand and escorted her out the room, not letting go of her until he they got to the restaurant.

* * *

Ron woke up to an empty, dark room. For a moment, he had forgotten where he was. When he remembered, his thoughts quickly went to Hermione and he wondered how she was doing with her parents. Looking at the clock, he saw that it was 11 PM. He wished it was 11 AM and they were already reunited. Even though she had been driving him crazy over the past few days, he wasn't used to being away from her.

His stomach grumbled and he rolled out of bed. He pulled on his pants and a t-shirt, and made his way down the hall. Once he was outside of Harry and Ginny's room, he rapped on the door. He heard a giggle and a shush.

"Who is it?" Ginny called out.

"It's your brother!" Ron responded. He heard another giggle and Harry's voice, but he couldn't make out the words. Footsteps approached the door, and Ginny opened it slightly so he could only see her face.

"Are you starkers right now?" Ron asked, his eyes wide in bewilderment.

"No!" Ginny said, opening the door farther and revealing that she was wearing a bathrobe. Peering over her head, he could see the back of Harry as he was pulling on a shirt and buttoning up his pants.

"For the love of merlin," Ron mumbled to himself. Rubbing his eyes with his hand, as if to remove the disgusting realization of what his sister and his best friend had just been doing, he asked, "Have you guys eaten yet?"

"Yea, we just went to dinner."

"Oh, thanks for letting me know." Ron said sarcastically, "Well, do you guys want to go downstairs with me anyways?"

"Well, Ron, we're kind of in the middle of something."

Ron had to restrain himself from either gagging or barreling through the door to punch Harry. Instead, he just turned away and started back down the hall to the elevator.

"That's not true!" He heard Harry call, "We weren't doing anything!"

Ron rolled his eyes. Yea, right. He may have been born in the dark but it wasn't last night.

* * *

The next morning, Harry, Ginny, and Ron took a cab out to Mandalay Way so that they could finally meet Hermione's parents. They were very a kind couple, and remembered all of the stories that Hermione had told them about the kids' adventures together at Hogwarts.

After brunch, Hermione met with her friends and told them that it had been a late night. They had talked about everything that had happened. Her parents were in shock when they heard of the things that the trio had done in the past year. Hermione was worried that they would resent Ron and Harry for taking her along, but they did not seem to harbor any ill will.

When given the choice, her parents immediately decided that they wanted to go back to London and they reckoned they could wrap up all of their loose ends in a few days. The next few days passed in a blur while the Grangers packed up their things, canceled their subscriptions, and traded in their car. Before they knew it, they were all back on an airplane, heading home to London.

On the plane, Hermione fell asleep, her head resting on Ron's shoulder. He smiled because that was the first time he had seen her relax in over a year.

 **A/N: No cliff hanger today. Coming up soon: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Angelina's appointment, and Grimmauld Place, plus much more. Let me know what you think.**

 **Nene**


	10. Chapter 10

Dear Ron,

How are you doing? How are things at the Burrow? I hope you are all doing well. I miss everyone, but especially you. I had gotten so used to seeing you every day that I feel as if something is missing when we are not together. I am counting down the minutes until I see you again.

As for my family and I, it took a few days but we have finally settled back into our London home. It feels like a dream to be able to sleep in my childhood room again. Sometimes, I wonder if I'm going to wake up and be looking at the ceiling of that ruddy tent. I'm always happy when I'm not.

My parents are returning to their routines. They say they've forgiven me for what I did, but I don't know if I believe them. Whenever I leave the house to go for a walk or stop by the library, they ask a lot of questions about where I'm going, what I'm doing, and when I'll be back. They didn't used to do that. I'm hoping that it will pass with time.

They were less than thrilled to hear that I would be returning to Hogwarts to finish my seventh year. They are worried that I will not be safe. I have done my best to reassure them that I will be fine, but I can't blame them for worrying.

It's almost dinner time, and I'm anticipating my mum calling me to the dining room at any moment. I should start wrapping this up but there is one last thing I wanted to tell you.

You have probably noticed an iconically shaped package. (Actually, now that I am thinking about it, you've probably already opened it before bothering to open this letter.) I wanted to get you something to show you how much I appreciate you. I know I was acting a bit loony on our trip, but you maintained the patience of a saint (mostly). I am a very lucky girl to have you. I hope you like it.

I will write to you soon,

I love you very much,

Hermione

* * *

Ron was sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by torn scraps of brown packaging paper and bits of string. A brand new Firebolt Ultimate lay across the table: its wooden handle shining, its twigs perfectly arranged. The excited young man hastily folded the letter and pushed it back into its envelope. He stood up, grabbed the pristine broomstick, and raced up the stairs while yelling, "Harry! Get up you squib! It's time I finally show you who's king of the Quidditch pitch!"

George was no stranger to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. As a child, his family made at least monthly visits for various reasons. It may be argued that he or Fred were usually the cause of these visits, but George would protest. He would not take responsibility for the time that Ginny's head inflated to three times its normal size (even though he taught her the spell to do so, claiming it would make her hair grow longer). Nor did he see how it was his fault that Percy almost fatally poisoned himself when they baked pies filled with gnome dung, not knowing that it was a toxic substance. (It wasn't his fault that Percy liked the taste so much that he ate three slices!)

Depending on his age and the circumstance, George felt many different emotions in the waiting room at St. Mungo's. Amusement when a prank went exactly as planned. Resentment when his mother was mad at him for said pranks. Embarrassment when a cute girl saw him covered in hideous boils. Shame when someone was hurt by something he thought would be funny. Terror when he did not know if his dad would be okay after being attacked by Nagini.

And now, sitting next to Angelina, he felt a new kind of anxiety. He was not worried about himself, but about their new, teeny tiny baby inside of Angelina's belly. Would he or she be healthy? How big would he or she be? What will the healer have to tell them? Will she look down on them for being so young, and not married?

His knee was bouncing in nervousness. Angelina lay her delicate hand on it. "Don't worry," She whispered to him. "Healer Dolce is wonderful. She has always taken very good care of us." She put a hand on her almost, but not quite, flat belly. At that moment, a door swung open, and a nurse called out, "For Miss Johnson?"

George and Angelina stood up and followed the nurse. Angelina made small talk with her, telling her no, the morning sickness isn't too bad, but yes, she is feeling more emotional. George did not participate in the conversation, but instead was intrigued by all of the posters on the walls and pictures of happy, healthy babies. In just a few months, he would have one of his own. His heart swelled in excitement and his stomach flipped in fear at the same time.

They were led into a small, clean exam room, and told that the healer would be in shortly. George tried to sit still next to Angelina, but he was too nervous. He stood up and quickly became fascinated with a model of the women's reproductive system that sat on the counter.

"Tell me, Angelina, what is this small bump right here?"

"George, shut up! You know what that is!"

"Yea, I do!" He said with a smug smile. She rolled her eyes at him but laughed at the same time. Watching him intently study the fallopian tubes, she fell into a moment of reflection.

She and George met in the Gryffindor common room on the first day of Hogwarts. They were always friendly, but they didn't become close until their third year, when they were both on the house quidditch team. They became great friends quickly but there was never anything romantic between them. In fact, throughout her time at Hogwarts, Angelina didn't have anything romantic with anyone else either. She was focused mostly on her schoolwork and the team. When she did develop a crush on someone, it was fleeting and never taken seriously.

She smiled to herself when she remembered that the only "date" she went on was the Yule Ball that she spent with Fred. When he had asked her, she was worried that he would want something serious and romantic to develop. After a surprisingly non-awkward conversation, they agreed that they were going as strictly friends. Their platonic agreement came in handy when George and Angelina hooked up for the first time in the Spring of 1997.

It was March and Angelina had just returned from a three month trip to South Africa when she received an owl inviting her to a small dinner party at George and Fred's new flat above the joke shop. She was very excited by the invitation because she missed all of her friends and couldn't wait to catch up with them.

That night, when she knocked on the door, she was surprised to see George. Well, not to see _George_ but to see how George looked. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was different, and she felt butterflies suddenly grow in her stomach. Perhaps it was the bright blue shirt that brought out his eyes, or the fact that his hair was longer than it had ever been before. Or maybe it was that his shoulders had widened, or he had grown an inch or two taller. She was not sure, but she definitely felt a shiver race down her spine when he leaned forward to give her a hug and welcome her into the flat.

A few hours later, while they were all drinking wine and playing a card game, George made a particularly witty joke. She laughed even harder than she normally would; for some reason, he was extra funny to her. While she giggled, he caught her eye and, without thinking about it, she winked at him. He looked curious, then amused, before turning back to the game. She caught herself wishing that he had winked back at her.

An hour after midnight, Angelina found herself to be the last guest still at the flat. She had kicked her heels off and thrown her hair up in a bun while she helped clean. When her arms were full with a few plates, bottles, and one full glass of Merlot, she turned towards the sink and stepped right into George. The glass of wine spilled all over his blue button down shirt. She quickly grabbed a damp towel and tried to blot it, very aware of how close they were. Deciding that rinsing it would be the best course of action, George pulled it off and ran it under the faucet.

Angelina took in the view of his bare torso with hungry eyes. His chest was broad and strong. He caught her looking at him and for the second time that night, she winked at him. Looking back, she can't remember what he said - something witty and suggestive - but she can remember the tingles she felt in her stomach when she finally did what she had been thinking about all night: she leaned forward and kissed him.

If George was surprised by the encounter, he did not show it. He responded without hesitation, moving his lips against hers and deepening the kiss. He grabbed her hips and lifted her up onto the counter; she wrapped her legs around him. Their kisses were passionate and Angelina felt something hot and fiery growing inside of her. She had never craved someone like she was craving George at that moment.

She breathed in his scent: a musky, manly scent that intoxicated her. She ran her hands up and down his bare back, and along his well-defined arms. She sighed at the shape of his muscles, feeling her face turn red at the thought of them holding her down on a mattress.

He moaned in delight as she kissed his neck, working her way up to his ear where she whispered to him, asking if he would take her to his bedroom. Placing one strong hand under her bottom, and wrapping the other around her back, he carried her into his room and threw her on the bed.

Only when she began to shimmy out of her dress did George slow down. He was worried that she was drunk and going to regret what they were doing. She assured him that she had only had one glass of wine and that she wanted to continue. He gave her a smoldering smile that made her shudder, and then he pulled the dress off of her.

Angelina was not a virgin but she had never had sex like that before. Her previous partners had been awkward and hesitant, but George seemed to know exactly what he was doing. He was gentle when she was warming up to him, but aggressive when she was ready. He moved her body with precision; each move was purposeful He teased her when she was getting close then dove in and sent her cascading over the edge.

They had sex again a few hours later and then once more in the morning.

After that night, they fell into a new pattern. Their time together evolved effortlessly from friendly to flirtatious. They continued to do the things that they had always done: hung out after work, went to the movies on the weekends, ate lunch together during the work week. But now, their time together was dotted with kisses, touches, and suggestive jokes. A few times a week, they would find themselves in bed again; Angelina slept over about half of these times.

They happily maintained their arrangement for almost a year before George and Fred had to close down the joke shop and go into hiding. Even then, however, they found each other a few times (including one very passionate Valentine's day).

Throughout their time together, they never defined their relationship. They did not refer to each other as "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" but they knew that they weren't just friends. When asked about it by their close friends, they reported that they were "keeping things casual" and it sincerely did not bother either of them.

In fact, Angelina did not think about it very often. George was fun, and exciting, and someone that made her feel good about herself. He was special to her, and very important to her. They enjoyed their time together, and their unique agreement worked for them. Why would she try to change something that was perfect the way that it was?

Her nonchalant feelings changed, however, when she was holding a positive pregnancy potion.

It was a sunny day in early April 1998. She had been feeling relentlessly sick for weeks, and she had missed a period. Originally, she was not concerned because she did have an irregular cycle and a sensitive stomach, but after two months, she had to wise up and take the test. Waiting for the potion to turn black or silver was the longest two minutes of her life.

She felt numb as she held the glowing silver potion in her hands. She immediately wrote an owl to her mum, who wrote back the next day with love, advice, and a parcel of potions to help with the morning sickness.

Angelina was confused and overwhelmed. How could she have a baby when they were in the middle of a war? How could she support a son or daughter on a single salary? She did not have a lucrative career; she was barely making ends meet as is. Behind her concerns, though, she felt a maternal instinct kick in. She would place a hand on her belly and feel connected to her child that was growing inside of her. For almost two weeks, she debated with herself whether she wanted to continue the pregnancy or not, ultimately deciding that she did. When she made that decision, she felt a sense of peace. She had finally taken control and she had a plan.

Within the next few weeks, she had visited a healer and started her prenatal potions. For moral and financial support, she moved back in with her mum. She asked for and was granted a small raise at her job. She was actually feeling optimistic about her situation and every day, she was falling more and more in love with her developing child.

Once the battle of Hogwarts happened, though, she fell back into her frantic panics. When she heard that George was out of hiding, she went into a frenzy. The fact that he had been away had made it easy for her to forget that she needed to tell him that he was the father of her baby. Then, in the midst of her panic, she heard that Fred had been killed. She immediately began to writhe with guilt at the idea of piling another burden onto an already miserable George.

After days of self-loathing and never-ceasing internal debate, she decided that he deserved to know the truth. It was not up to her to limit his reality. After she told him that she was pregnant, she saw him genuinely smile for probably the first time since the battle.

In following few days, she sensed a new outlook coming from George. He voluntarily cleaned his apartment; he asked her a million questions about babies and pregnancies; he pulled out a catalog from a baby store and started to circle all of the things he wanted to buy. He had genuine moments of happiness. There were still times, though, when Angelina would catch him sulking in his room or crying when he thought that she couldn't hear him. But this did not bother her; this was the normal grieving process.

And now, as they were waiting in the exam room for Healer Dolce to come in, Angelina watched as George curiously flipped through the women's health brochures. She smiled. She was happy that he was with her, she was happy that he was okay, and she was happy that such a great guy was going to be the father of her baby.

* * *

Dear Hermione,

You are the best, coolest, greatest girlfriend in the whole world! Thanks a million for the firebolt! It's brilliant! I spent all day on it. I even raced with Harry and beat him! Ha! I only just stopped riding it because it was practically pitch black outside and the broom goes so fast that I think I hit a bird. Oops.

Anyways, I'm glad to hear that things are almost back to normal. I'm sorry your parents are acting a little loony. They just love you so much that they don't want you to get hurt anymore. Tell them that I love you that much too, and I would never let anything happen to you. Maybe it will ease their mind if you tell them that a strong, sexy, intelligent, sensitive man like me will be watching over you. (I imagine you're smirking at the paper right now.)

I'm doing okay but it's a lot harder for me when you're not here. I miss you so much, Hermione. I wish I could see you every day, and spend the night with you every night. I miss waking up with your hair in my face and your small back pressed against me. It only happened a few times, but now it's like I don't know anything else.

When can you come visit? Currently I'm available most days and every night. (Kidding.) I will be busy in the next few weeks - I'm going to talk to George about reopening the joke shop - but I'll never be too busy for you. Let me know when you can make it, and I'll clear my calendar. Or I can visit you in London, if your parents would feel more comfortable with that. Either way, let me know.

Love you lots,

Ron

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **1\. You may have noticed that I have changed the name from "Killing Time: Year One" to "After the Battle". I feel that this better reflects the plot. This is not just a story about Harry waiting for his training, but about all of the characters living life after the war.**

 **2\. The next chapter will be very Harry heavy.**

 **Namaste,**

 **Nene**


	11. Chapter 11

Dear Mrs. Tonks,

I hope you and Teddy are doing well. I am back from Australia. It was a nice trip, but I'm happy to be home.

I'm writing because Mrs. Weasley and I would like to invite you and Teddy over to the Burrow for afternoon tea whenever you are available.

Looking forward to your response,

Harry

P.S. Mrs. Weasley is wondering if you can bring a copy of your Herbed Yorkshire Pudding recipe. Thanks.

* * *

 **Sunday, May 10, 1998**

Because Ginny had been in love with Harry for almost half of her life, she thought that she knew everything about him. She quickly realized, however, that this was not true. She only knew the superficial Harry, and it was only now that they were dating, living in the same house, and spending nearly every day together, that she was starting to see below his surface.

She had seen him purse his lips when trying to unravel a riddle or win a game of wizards' chess, but it was only recently that she realized he pursed his lips when he had a real-life problem to solve, too. She saw this when he wrote ten different letters to Mrs. Tonks, and couldn't decide which one to send.

She had never known that he liked to sing in the shower until she heard his wavering voice coming from the bathroom every morning. She didn't even know what kind of music he liked to listen to and to be honest, she still didn't really know because she didn't recognize any of the songs he sang. When asked about it, he told her they were muggle songs that played on the wireless in Little Whinging. (After that, his shower singing became much quieter.)

She had been aware that he and Ron would get into rows sometimes, but she had never actually been with him when he was furious at her brother. She had never heard his racing words, his elevated voice. She had never seen his balled fists or his clenched jaw.

She had always known that his parents were dead, but she had never seen him grieve for them. Now she noticed that his grief came in small moments. A folded up photo that he carried in his wallet. An elongated silence in which he was lost in thought, his head bowed in concentration. A sad smile he offered to Arthur when he called him _son_.

She had heard him laugh before, obviously, but she was now aware of all of his different laughs. A polite chuckle during small talk, a raucous guffaw when witnessing a clumsy event, a covert giggle at an inappropriate joke, a silent whistle at something overwhelmingly hilarious. When she could see all four in one day, she felt victorious.

She had witnessed his prowess on the Quidditch pitch. She had seen him pounce, dive, and race all around the field in pursuit of the golden snitch. But it was only until their trip to Australia that she saw his coordination up close and personal; his athleticism, determination, and enthusiasm spilled over from the Quidditch pitch and right into the bedroom. His muscles that she had admired from underneath his quidditch robes were now displayed in front of her, for her to appreciate and to touch. His grunts of effort and his cheers of happiness while playing had given way to a new sort of grunts and cheers that she inspired.

These last thoughts made a small blush creep across her face. Luckily Harry, who was sitting across the kitchen table from her, did not notice. He had a bowl of soup in front of him that he had not touched. One of his hands was resting on the table, with his index finger _tap tap tap_ ing on the table. His other arm was resting on the back of the chair, and his head was leaning against that hand. Every few seconds, he would glance out the window.

Ginny studied him: he was not confused, or his lips would be pursed. He was not upset, or his gaze would be down. He was not mad, or his jaw would be clenched.

"Is everything okay, babe?" She asked him. He switched his gaze from out the window to her.

"Yea, sorry, I'm just nervous." He said with a small smile. He moved one of his hands to join hers on top of the table.

Ginny nodded. Understood. Fingers tapping, compulsive glances out the window. Nervous.

"Why are you nervous? Because Teddy and Mrs. Tonks are coming over?"

Harry nodded, now looking out the window again.

"That's nothing to be nervous about." She said with a small laugh, running a soothing hand up and down his arm.

"That's easy for you to say," He countered, "Because you've been around a million babies!"

Ginny shrugged, recognizing the validity of his statement. The Weasleys were a very large family, and they were always adding new members. "Okay, fair point, but haven't you been around babies before?"

He surprised her by answering, "Never."

"Never?!"

"No, never!"

"Not a single baby?"

"Not a single baby, Ginny!" He answered a little shrilly. This situation was more dire than Ginny had originally thought.

"Okay, okay," She said, coming up with a plan. "I've got an idea to make you feel better. Follow me."

She stood up, took his hand, and started up the stairs. When they were outside of her room, she started to open the door when he stopped and said, "Listen, Ginny, a shag sounds great but I really—"

She laughed and he looked confused. "We are not going to shag right now!" She said, pulling him in and shutting the door behind him. She directed him to sit on her bed and he obeyed. Moving to her closet, she dug around a few minutes before pulling out a life sized baby doll.

"A doll?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Yes, a doll! Where do you think I learned it? My aunts and uncles didn't just throw a baby in my arms, expecting me to know how to hold it!" She defended.

"I don't know, Gin," He said hesitantly but then she was shoving the baby doll into his arms. He took it from her, and held it in front of him as if it were a pillow holding Cinderella's glass slipper.

"Are you serious?" She asked him but he smiled at her, and quickly positioned the doll differently in his arms. He was mostly correct except Ginny had to point out that the doll's head was dangling, and that babies needed neck support.

After he was holding the baby like a baby-holding professional, she gave him a lesson on what to do if the baby starts crying. He bobbed, rocked, and walked the doll all around the room. Whenever he would slow down, Ginny would let out an ear piercing baby wail, and Harry would bob, rock, or walk with new determination. Eventually, after she wailed for the fifth time, Harry asked if her sound effects were necessary. She giggled a little then stopped.

They were pulled out of their make-believe parenthood when they heard a knocking on the door, and Molly's voice welcoming their guests. Harry looked horror struck for a second until Ginny assured him that he would do great with baby Teddy, and that he would not be alone.

When Harry and Ginny came downstairs, Mrs. Tonks was seated in a chair in the sitting room, and Molly was holding a red-haired baby in her arms. The baby looked up at her in amusement, and reached out for her necklace.

"Oh no, no, no," Mrs. Weasley chided to the baby as Harry and Ginny walked in the door. They greeted Mrs. Tonks with smothering hugs.

"Please, call me Dromeda," She said, with a big smile. "Mrs. Tonks was my mother in law!"

They both nodded, noting the familiarity between her and her daughter. Once they were sitting, Dromeda said, "Harry, I cannot begin to thank you—"

"Oh, it was my pleasure Mrs.—, I mean, Dromeda," Harry replied, blushing and embarrassed. He had not told Molly or Ginny that he had given Dromeda and Teddy his money from the Minister.

"You have really eased my mind," She went on, "I was so worried that I wouldn't be able to make ends meet, but after your gift, I was able to buy Teddy the best formula and new clothes and a safe crib. You are truly a godsend." She said, reaching over and squeezing his hand.

He nodded and said, "Well, Teddy's my godson so I feel responsible to make sure he is provided for."

Dromeda looked at him for a moment before saying, "You're a good man, Harry." She paused. "You remind me so much of your father."

Harry had nothing to say, only squeezing her hand that was still on top of his, and nodding. To his relief, Ginny broke the silence by asking if she could hold Teddy. Molly gently passed the little red head over to her daughter. The baby was sleeping and did not respond to the changing arms.

For the first time, Harry looked down at the face of his godson. His insides filled with a warmth that he had never felt before. A desire to protect and provide. An overwhelming, perfect love. He leaned over and kissed the baby on the head. At the touch, the baby's eyes opened, but he did not cry. Instead, he focused his small brown eyes on Harry's face. He reached a chubby hand out towards Harry, and when Harry offered his hand, five little fingers wrapped around his thumb.

Harry smiled involuntarily; he was filled with joy and awe at the little miracle in front of him. Surprisingly, baby Teddy smiled back at him, and transformed. His red hair turned to black, and his perfect forehead suddenly bore a small, lightening bolt scar.

Ginny passed the baby to him, and Harry held the warm bundle in his arms, exactly as he was taught to do. Suddenly overwhelmed with emotions, Harry felt his eyes well up with tears. A few tear drops fell on the blue blanket he was wrapped in.

"I'm so sorry about your parents," He whispered to the baby. There were many other things that he wanted to say, but he could not bring himself to say them. Pulling himself out of the baby's spell, he looked up to see that Ginny was crying as well. He offered her a sad smile, and she leaned her head against his for a moment. He broke away and looked at Dromeda and Molly, who were also crying.

"Oh no," He said jokingly, "What have you done, Teddy?"

Everyone laughed softly, and their conversation slowly began again. Dromeda and Teddy stayed for a few hours before the woman suggested that she needed to get home to start dinner. Harry insisted that he walk her out to the apparition point. When they were outside of the gate of the Burrow, Dromeda pulled Harry into another hug.

"It is so good to see you, Harry," She said, "Teddy is very lucky to have you as a godfather."

"That's nice of you to say," He responded, "But I wish I could do more for you. Is there anything else Teddy needs? Or anything you need?" He asked eagerly, hoping she would have a request.

"Oh no, my dear, you have done more than enough." She smiled.

"What about a babysitter? You must want some time alone." He offered, "You can always drop him off here. I think he likes me and if I need any help, I've got Mrs. Weasley and Ginny."

She thought about it for a moment before nodding, "You know, my dear, some time alone does sound wonderful."

"Whenever you want," Harry agreed excitedly.

"How does Tuesday around noon sound?"

"Tuesday's brilliant!" Harry beamed. He bent over, and kissed small Teddy on the head. Dromeda gave him one more smile, said "See you then!", and disapparated away.

As soon as they were out of sight, Harry missed his godson.

* * *

When Ron stood in front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, he felt overwhelmed. It was a huge store and he knew it had been wildly popular when it was open. Fred and George had a knack for running it, and it was successful because success was in their nature. Would it be as easy for Ron?

Would George even want Ron's help? Or would he prefer to run it himself? Would he even want to open the shop again? Ron took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. He was getting to far ahead of himself. He just needed to take things one step at a time.

He turned towards the staircase and bumped into someone familiar.

"Angelina!" He exclaimed.

"Ron!" She said, happily, breaking into a grin. She pulled him into a big hug, and when she pulled away, Ron noticed one thing different about her. Well, not one thing. Two things. Ron quickly yanked himself out of it before she noticed him staring at her figure. He might have been too late but he did not say anything.

"How have you been?" She asked him, "I haven't seen you in ages."

"I've been pretty well. I'm coming to visit George. Were you just up there with him?"

"I was." She said, blushing slightly. "Oh, he'll be so excited to see you."

Ron nodded and she took a step away, "Well, I've got somewhere to be but it's good to see you and I'm sure I'll see you again soon!" She gave a small wave and walked away.

Once Ron was walking up the stairs, his thoughts drifted back to Angelina's new developments. Had she always been so curvy? He couldn't remember, but she certainly looked good.

When he knocked on the door, his thoughts quickly became more nervous.

"Couldn't stay away?" He heard George called seductively as he opened the door. When George saw it was his brother, he jumped in surprise.

"Ah, I see what's going on," Ron said, a knowing smile spreading across his face. "No wonder Angelina seemed so bright when I saw her."

"Oh shut it," George said, rolling his eyes and opening the door for Ron to come in.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" George asked, as Ron came in and made himself comfortable on the couch.

"I'm about to go visit Hermione and her parents in London. I thought I'd stop by to say hello."

He had a haunting moment where he expected to see Fred come through the door and join them. His stomach turned when he realized it would never happen again.

George followed his gaze to Fred's old bedroom door, and he could practically read Ron's thoughts.

"Ah, yes, the lovely Hermione. Rumor has it that you've finally pulled her into your trap."

"Something like that," Ron said with a smile, his attention back to George. To him, George looked skinny and tired, but not too bad. If only Ron had seen him a few days ago.

"It's about damn time." George exclaimed.

"Seriously." Ron agreed.

"So how is it?" George pried, hoping for juicy details.

"Well, it's okay." Ron started, wondering how to describe their short relationship, "She was pretty… Unpredictable… when we were in Australia looking for her parents, and then after we found them, she went home with them. So we haven't really had any normal time together."

"Right," George said, winking at Ron. "Ladies can be a little 'unpredictable' sometimes. You've still got that book we gave you, right?" Ron nodded.

"Good," George replied. "You two will figure it out. You're destined to."

"How are Mum and Dad?" George asked, changing the subject.

"Well, Mum and Dad are good." Ron amended: "As good as they can be. I'll catch Mum crying sometimes but she'll always act like she's not. And dad's been spending a lot of time in his shed. I think it keeps his mind off of things."

George nodded, as if that was what he was expecting, "And Ginny?"

"Ugh," Ron groaned, "Ginny is insufferable now that she and Harry have gotten together! They're like bloody bunny rabbits, shagging all the time!"

"Bloody hell, Ron, I don't need to know that about my baby sister." George said with an exaggerated grimace on his face.

"Well, I would have been happy without knowing too, but I didn't have a choice!"

"God damn it, I knew I never liked that specky git Harry Potter!"

"I've walked in on them twice!" Ron said, and George burst into laughter.

"Twice?!"

"Yes! Now I can't sleep at night now; I'm traumatized!" They dissolved into laughter. Ron looked over at his brother and felt happy to be with him. He had missed him, and it was nice to be around him again.

"Do you want a butterbeer? Or pumpkin juice?" George said, standing up and walking over to the kitchen.

"A butterbeer would be great!" Ron called to his retreating back. As George disappeared into the other room, Ron noticed something poking out from under the coffee table. It looked like the corner of a picture.

He bent over to pick it up, and he sucked in a breath. It was a picture of a developing baby, and written on the top, in neat block letters, was: BABY JOHNSON-WEASLEY - MAY 8 1998 - 20 WEEKS DEVELOPED.

Ron held the picture in his hands, his mouth fallen open in shock. When George walked back in the room, two butterbeers in hand, a smile on his face. When he saw Ron holding the picture, his smile evaporated.

* * *

After a delicious dinner of beef stew and warm buns, Arthur asked Harry if he could speak to him privately for a moment. Harry agreed, of course, but his stomach dropped. Arthur seemed stoic but was usually jovial. Was this about Ginny? Or was he overstaying his welcome at the Burrow?

Arthur lead him into the sitting room and asked him to have a seat. With a swish of his wand, the doors closed. This was the first time that Harry had been alone with Arthur since they had come back from Australia. Suddenly, Harry was very aware of all of the dirty things he had done to this man's daughter. He physically shook his head, trying to clear his mind of such thoughts.

"So, Harry," Arthur said his voice very kind and fatherly, settling into a cushioned chair nearby, "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing well," Harry answered. He felt himself relax. This was Arthur, for goodness sakes. He had been a second dad to Harry for years. There was no reason to be nervous.

"We haven't really had a chance to chat since, well, you know," Arthur said, his voice very kind and fatherly. "And I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm okay," Harry replied. Arthur didn't say anything so Harry continued, "Some days are better than others, but for the most part, I'm okay."

"Some days are better than others," Arthur repeated with a touch of laughter in his voice, "I think we all feel that way." Arthur's gaze lay on Harry's face, but Harry did not feel threatened by it. Instead, he felt comforted. Is this what it felt like to have a parent care about you?

"Ginny seems a lot happier now that you're home," Arthur said casually. Harry's mind played with the word "home". Was the Burrow his home? Did the Weasleys think he belonged there, with them?

"I know she was pretty worried about me," Harry responded.

"We all were," Arthur finished, "We just wanted to know that you were alive and safe."

"Well, we were certainly alive." Harry said with a sarcastic laugh. Arthur smiled genially.

"Ron told Molly and me about what you were looking for." Arthur said. Harry nodded, momentarily unsure how he felt about that. He decided that he was relieved; he did not want anymore secrets and if he trusted anyone, it was Molly and Arthur.

"I'm sorry that I took your son on such a dangerous mission." Harry said, but Arthur waved his hand in the air as if to dismiss the apology. He countered, "There is no way that Ron would have stayed behind while you were out on a quest. I know that. You're all adults and I can't make your decisions for you. I'm just glad that you made it home safely."

Arthur pointed his wand over to the fireplace and a flame erupted. The two fell into a comfortable silence with only the crackling of the log audible.

"Thank you," Harry said, breaking the quiet, "for letting me stay here. You have always made me feel welcome."

"You've always been welcome here, Harry," Arthur said, resting a strong hand on Harry's shoulder and giving it a squeeze, "In fact, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can you come upstairs with me?"

Harry followed Arthur out of the cozy room and up the stairs, stopping in front of Percy's old room: one room above Ginny's, one below Ron's, and directly across from Molly and Arthur's room.

"Be careful," Arthur said pointedly, "These floorboards squeak pretty loudly." Harry made a mental note, precisely as Arthur wanted him to.

Arthur opened the door and led him into Percy's room. It was small but clean. The window on the far wall had a beautiful view of the sweeping hills, bathed in the light of the setting sun. There was a small desk against the left wall, next to a dresser, and across from that was a bed with a red and gold knitted blanket. The walls featured a few posters: one of the Chudley Cannons, one of the Irish National Quidditch, and one with a large Gryffindor emblem.

"I didn't realize that Percy was such a quidditch fan," Harry remarked, losing himself in the faces of one of the posters.

"He's not," He heard Arthur respond. Harry thought this was odd but didn't retort. When he turned around to face Arthur again, he noticed a picture on the nightstand. Stepping closer, he saw that it was a picture of Harry, Hermione, and Ron. He looked at Arthur in confusion.

"This room is for you, Harry," Arthur said.

"For me?" He asked in disbelief, looking around again.

Arthur nodded and began: "We have always considered you to be part of the family, Harry. You are like a son to Molly and I." He took a deep breath and continued, "When you were in Australia, we had the idea to make this a room for you. To show you that you are always welcome here at the Burrow. I hope you like it."

"Mr. Weasley," Harry responded, "did I ever tell you about my first bedroom?" Arthur shook his head in response.

"When I was living with my aunt and uncle, they made me sleep in the cabinet underneath the staircase." Harry told him. A look of shock appeared on Arthur's face. "It was small, and dirty, and dust would fall on me whenever someone walked up or down the stairs."

Harry paused for a moment and looked Arthur in the eye to make sure he knew that he was being completely serious. "To be invited to stay at the Burrow, and to have a proper bedroom of my own, is the most generous thing anyone has ever done for me."

Arthur took a step forward and opened his arms, and Harry walked into them. They hugged for a moment as father and son.

* * *

 **A/N: Let me know what you think.**

 **Shout out to Scrappy8. Keep on scrappin'! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

"That's not what it looks like." George said, as he hurriedly put down the two butterbeers and grabbed the photo out of Ron's hands.

"It's not?" Ron asked, suspiciously.

George paused for a moment. Glancing down at the picture, an involuntary smile appeared on his face. He looked back towards his brother and said, "Actually, it's exactly what it looks like. That was just a reflex response."

"So this is a photograph of a baby?" Ron said slowly, unsure if George's calm demeanor was the result of not understanding the question.

"Yes."

"Your baby?"

"Yes."

"Yours and Angelina's baby?"

"Yes!"

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed, snatching the picture back and examining it. "I didn't even know that you two were dating until fifteen minutes ago!"

"We have been for awhile," George explained, "And then last week she told me she was… you know."

"Oh my god, George, what are you going to do?" asked Ron dramatically. He felt a panic rising in his chest, but George remained cool and collected.

"Well, I'm thinking that she and the baby can move in here and we can raise it together." George responded with a perfectly thought out plan.

Ron nodded at this before asking, "Are you going to get married?"

"We haven't even talked about it." George replied, a small frown on his face; his forehead furrowed in thought for a moment before saying, "I don't think so."

Ron let out a mischievous giggle and begged, "Can I please be there when you tell Mum and Dad?"

"No!" George detested, "I'm nervous enough already."

"But you seem so excited!"

"It gives me something to look forward to. I'm gonna be a dad!"

Suddenly, Ron's face broke into a giant grin. "And I'm going to be an uncle!"

A warm excitement filled Ron at this moment, and he jumped off of the couch and gave his brother a big hug. The hug lingered for a minute, the way that hugs do in a family that has suffered loss. Pulling away and grabbing a butterbeer, Ron settled back on the couch. George did the same.

"So have you asked Angelina to move in yet?" Ron was still wrapping his head around the idea that George and Angelina were even an item.

"No, I'm going to try to fix the place up a bit first." George explained as he and Ron looked around the apartment. Ron thought that this was a good idea: Angelina probably wouldn't want to raise a baby in a home with posters of half-naked witches on the wall or firewhiskey barrels for end tables. "I'm thinking I can turn Fred's bedroom into a nursery."

They were silent for a minute. Ron was filled with mixed emotions about the idea. After a beat, Ron said quietly, "I bet Fred would love the idea of his little niece or nephew growing up in his room."

"Fred would think I'm the biggest idiot in the whole world for getting Angelina pregnant." George said, slipping back into his comfortable comedy.

Ron grunted, "Well, I agree with him!"

George shoved Ron's shoulder as he lifted his bottle for a drink. It spilled a few drops on his shirt.

"I miss Fred so much." George said. His face did not fall and his smile didn't evaporate; his grief had evolved from all consuming to omnipresent; from life-controlling to along-for-the-ride.

"I miss him too." Ron agreed. Once again, they fell into a contemplative silence, as brothers occasionally do.

"So…" started Ron, interrupting the quiet, "Do you think you're going to reopen the joke shop?"

"I'm going to have to." Responded George importantly with a gleam in his eye, "I have a family to support."

Ron looked at his brother in amazement. When he knocked on the door to the flat, he had expected to see a thrashed cave of garbage and darkness in which his grungy brother would be crawling around like a gargoyle. He didn't even cross his mind that he would find a clean, stable father-to-be.

"Do you think you'll need help?" Ron asked him, nerves filling his chest; this is what he had come for. "I'm done with school now."

"You're not going back to Hogwarts?" George asked and Ron shook his head.

George contemplated for a moment before stating, "Yea, I could use some help."

Ron broke into a grin as George continued with a menacing smile: "You know, mopping the floors, cleaning the bathrooms, restocking the shelves…"

* * *

The attic was musty, dark, and sweltering. Resembling the Room of Requirement, boxes and trunks and all sorts of antiques of various shapes and sizes were piled up in small towers. Harry was crouched over, wiping the perspiration off of his forehead as he opened and searched through another box. Ginny was kneeling in front of a trunk: her damp-from-sweat hair was piled up in a messy bun; her lower back peeking out from the bottom of her black tank top.

"I can't see anything in this dark attic!" She grunted before whipping her wand out of her pocket. "Don't tell mum!" she said as she illuminated the end of her wand.

"Ginny Weasley, are you performing underage magic?" Harry said teasingly.

"Yea, yea, you can punish me later." She said with a wink before turning back to her trunk. Harry felt a tingle run up and down his spine; he was still excited by her suggestive comments even though he heard them frequently.

"Remind me again what it looks like." He asked her, peering into a burlap sack.

"Mum just said it was a yellow fabric bag and everything would be inside."

"Is this yellow?" Harry asked, holding the burlap sack up for her to see.

She shook her head, "No, that's brown."

He bent over again and continued his search before exclaiming: "I think I found it!"

Looking at what he was holding, Ginny saw a small, yellow sack that looked familiar enough. "Yes, I think so too." She agreed and watched Harry carefully extricate himself from the columns of boxes. She followed him through the hatch in the floor and down the ladder, through Ron's room, back down the stairs, and into Harry's new bedroom.

Harry reached into the petite bag, and most of his arm sank into its depths. He pulled out a tiny onesie with a golden snitch on it and smiled at how cute it was. He then extracted a few toys and trinkets, jumpers and pajamas, several bottles and binkies, cloth diapers and washcloths, soft blankets and crib sheets, knit hats and socks, a large, black diaper bag, and finally, with Ginny's help stretching the mouth of the bag, he pried out a stroller, a playpen, and a crib. By the time they had emptied the purse, the modest room looked as if a hurricane had ripped through it.

"You know, Harry, I think your room's a bit small for this mess."

"Really, Ginny, because I think it's kind of cozy." Harry said, matching her sarcasm. They grinned at each other before diving back into their work. They folded the clothes, blankets, and sheets, and stowed them in the bottom drawer of Harry's dresser. After purging his Hogwarts trunk, they filled it with toys and various playthings. The crib was cleaned, made up with fresh sheets and blankets, and placed under the window where it fit nicely. Lastly, after an exhausting game of furniture Tetris, the play pen was shoved back into the yellow bag under the impression that it would be pulled out when necessary.

"I can't tell if it's a nursery or a bachelor pad." Ginny said as she surveyed the cramped room.

"It's an artistic balance of the two," Harry said, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "There will be pictures of it in the next issue of Witch's Weekly."

"Oh is that so?" She asked with a musical laugh. She suddenly whipped around and looked at him excitedly, saying, "Wait! I have something!"

She raced out of the room, and returned a moment later holding a mobile with snitches, brooms, and little hoops. She explained, "For above the crib."

With a wave of his wand, the decoration floated through the air and attached itself to the ceiling above the small bed. It rotated breezily through the air.

Harry reached out to Ginny and pulled her into his arms again. "Thank you," he whispered into her ear, "It's perfect."

She nodded in agreement. "It was mine when I was younger. I loved it so much that I didn't take it down until I was in primary school and Shelby Magri said it was childish."

Harry chuckled at the thought of a spunky, young Ginny. He wondered if they would have gotten along when they were children; he wondered if Dudley would have intimated her like he had scared all of their other peers.

"Teddy is very lucky to have you as a godfather." She said after a moment of silence.

"Sirius would have done it for me, if he had the choice." Harry said thoughtfully.

"He's going to love his time here."

"You don't think it's too cramped?"

"I think it's brilliant."

* * *

 **A/N: Twenty years ago, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone hit the shelves for the first time. The Harry Potter series is truly special to me so I wanted to publish at least a little chapter on its anniversary. I hope you like it.**

 **Namaste,**

 **Nene**


	13. Chapter 13

"So do your parents know?" Hermione asked eagerly, hanging off of Ron's every word. They were sitting in an upscale restaurant in bustling downtown London, having just enjoyed their dinner and wine, waiting for check to arrive.

"No! He's going to tell them sometime this week!" Ron said with a laugh. Hermione's face was wearing an expression of absolute surprise; it was exactly the reaction that Ron had been hoping for.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me until right now!" she exclaimed, playfully whacking him on the shoulder. "We've been together for hours!"

"Well, I wanted your full attention!" he explained and Hermione rolled her eyes at his excuse. The small tea light was casting a warm glow on her face. She reached forward and intertwined her fingers with his, and then rested their tangled hands in his lap. He felt a tingle race up his spine at their proximity to his manhood but Hermione seemed not to notice; she innocently surveyed the restaurant.

"You look beautiful, Hermione." Ron told her quietly. She dazzled him with a smile. Just then, the waitress dropped by their table with the tab. Ron pulled out his wallet, counted out an arrangement of bills, and told their waitress that she could keep the change.

Once they were out of the restaurant, Hermione looped her arm through Ron's and looked at him mischievously.

"What?" Ron said with a suspicious smile.

"Well, you just tipped our Waitress over sixty percent." Hermione pointed out with a laugh. A look of bewilderment spread across his face. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, then pulled at his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders.

The walk home was a short one filled with Hermione animatedly detailing her past few days. As Ron listened to her, he wished that he could hear about her days every day. Before they knew it, they were standing on the sidewalk in front of the Granger's townhouse. Ron pulled Hermione into an embrace, holding her snuggly in his arms and looking down at her face.

"Thank you for a lovely dinner," She whispered before leaning up and kissing him softly on the lips. The innocent kiss was repeated a time or two, before being replaced with a more passionate touch. As Ron's arms pulled Hermione closer, one of Hermione's hands found its way to Ron's lower back, underneath his shirt.

After a moment, Hermione pulled away from him. She looked at him with a curious expression.

"When will I see you next?" Ron asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"I'm not sure. Maybe this weekend." Hermione replied and promised: "I will send you an owl as soon as I know when I'm free."

"Okay, my love," Ron said, kissing her gently on the forehead. She took a few steps away from him before releasing his hand and turning towards her home. She was halfway up the walkway when she spun around and returned to the sidewalk. Biting her lip, she looked at Ron nervously; He could tell she had something on the tip of her tongue. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for her to speak.

"Would you like to come inside?" She blurted out.

Glancing at his watch, he responded, "Hermione, it's nearly eleven o'clock. Your parents would kill me."

"Well," She said with a nervous laugh, "They're in Liverpool and won't be back until tomorrow."

—

"Now, my dear, point your wand at the potatoes, flick it like this, and say, ' _excorsio_!'" Molly said to a frustrated Harry. Harry attempted to mimic the movement and perform the charm, but the potatoes only vibrated a little.

"It's no use, Mrs. Weasley," Harry whined dramatically. "I could have peeled them all by hand by now."

"Now, now, Harry," She lectured, clicking her tongue, "You cannot call yourself a grown wizard if you don't know how to cook for yourself! What are you going to do when you're living alone!"

"Order in every night?"

Molly looked at him as if he had said a horrible swear word.

"Kidding!" Harry said quickly.

"Okay, let's try again. It really isn't that hard. I know you can do a thousand defensive spells. Just imagine that the potatoes are attacking you and you need to peel them to protect yourself!" Molly said, laughing at her own joke.

Harry thought it was pretty bizarre to imagine potatoes attacking him but Molly was right about one thing: he had mastered hundreds if not thousands of spells. Why was this one giving him so much trouble?

Taking a deep breath, concentrating on the tone of his voice and the exact movement of his wand, he tried again. This time, the small red potatoes rose in the air, spun around in place, and fell back into the basket, missing the skins.

"Great job!" Molly said with a small clap before turning to her cook book. "Now, now, where were we? Ah yes, step number two…"

The process of making dinner had started at a grueling snail's pace but once Harry successfully diced the potatoes, carrots, and onions, he developed a rhythm and their speed picked up. They had only one mishap in which After about an hour, they had successfully put together a large chicken casserole.

"Not bad for your first time, Harry!" Molly said, patting him affectionately on the shoulder. "Once you've figured it all out, this will take you less than five minutes!"

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said with a grin as he inspected his work.

Ginny was busy setting the table for four. Once she was done, she came over and inspected her boyfriend's work. "Smells great!" She complimented, kissing him on the cheek.

Arthur walked into the kitchen at that moment and deeply inhaled.

"Smells great!" He exclaimed.

"That's what I just said!" Ginny laughed.

"It's like you're my daughter or something." Arthur joked, wrapping his arm around her and giving her a kiss on the head.

The four of them settled down at the table and enjoyed dinner together. Their conversation drifted from Arthur's day at work to Ginny preparing for Hogwarts; Harry delighted them with the tale of Ron jinxing himself slugs; Molly revealed that she herself had been quite the jinxer while she was at Hogwarts.

"One time I jinxed my brother Fabian so that he sprouted a pair of antlers. Our school healer couldn't remove them so he wore them for three months before they fell off naturally!" Molly regaled, clutching her belly as she laughed. "I was in detention every night he had them!"

"Mum! You have always been so hard on us!" Ginny protested.

"Well, that's because I have grown up and seen the error of my ways!" She said with a twinkle in her eye. Just then, a dirty, decrepit grey owl swooped into the room and crashed on the table.

"Errol!" Molly exclaimed. "I asked him to send a letter to George three days ago! He's only just returned!"

Errol was lying in a heap of disheveled feathers. Molly reached forward and prodded one of his yellow legs. He righted himself and allowed her to remove two scrolls. Glancing at the names on them, she said, "Oh, Harry dear, this one is for you."

Harry took the scroll from her, unrolled it, and began to read. As his eyes travelled down the page, his brow furrowed.

"What is it?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Well, it's a letter from Gringott's." He answered, "They're not very happy with me. They're going to 'deliver the contents of my vault to my current residence on Monday morning.'"

"What?!" Molly gasped.

"Where will you keep your gold?!" Ginny inquired.

"What did they say exactly?" Arthur questioned. Harry passed him the letter and he read it; Ginny peered over his shoulder and read it too.

"Harry, this says your 'vaults.' As in multiple. How many do you have?" Ginny asked.

"Only one," Harry responded before adding: "That I know of."

"Well, we'll help you figure something out, Harry, dear." Molly said, standing up and, with a swish of her wand, sending all of the dirty dishes to the sink. They ran themselves under the water, a scrub brush danced around their faces, and then lined up along the wooden rack to dry.

—"Your room is exactly how I imagined it." Ron told Hermione as he looked around.

"Is that so?" She asked. She was wringing her hands together in front of her, watching him examine a bookcase.

"Yep, spotless — " He said as he animatedly ran a finger across the top of her dresser and pulled it away with no dirt on his fingertip. "— Filled with books —" He motioned to the bookcase. "— And a flowery blanket on the bed."

"You know me well," Hermione said quietly. Ron stepped towards her, sliding his arms around her waist, and kissed her gently on the lips. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the soft embrace. She pressed her lips against his, continuing the kiss, deepening it. She felt his warm fingertips slip under the hem of her blouse, spreading across her lower back. She sighed at the touch. Bravely, she took a step backwards, never breaking contact but instead pulling Ron with her.

Inside of his chest, Ron's heart was hammering. He had followed her step towards the bed and his thoughts were racing. This was the first time that they would be in bed together in which she wasn't frantic about her parents and he wasn't depressed about his brother. They had had a fun night together and now they were completely alone.

He continued to follow her to the bed, and when she pushed on his chest, he sat down on it and she climbed on top of him. Her lips were hungry for his. Small moans were escaping from her. Her small hands tugged at the back of his shirt and he allowed her to pull it off of him; he began to work on unbuttoning her blouse. Once he felt the last button unhook, he pulled away to look at her and what he saw made him gasp.

She was wearing a lacy, red bra that made her look like a sexy vixen. Her breasts filled the cups and he could see her nipples underneath the lace.

"Oh my god…" He said quietly as he admired her.

"Do you like it?" Hermione asked, biting her lip.

"Like it?" Ron asked incredulously, "Hermione, I love it!"

"Good, I bought it just for you." She said, with a little wink. She rolled off of him and lay on her back on the bed. She unbuttoned her pants and shimmied them off, revealing a matching pair of red, lacy panties.

"Hermione, you are so sexy!" He said as he lay down next to her. He began kissing her again and he let her hands guide him to her breasts. He moaned as he felt them fill up his hands; she seemed to enjoy it as well.

He moved his lips from her mouth to her neck and up to her ear to whisper, "Can I touch you?"

With wide eyes, she nodded. His hand snaked over her breasts, across her belly, and landed between her legs. He began a gentle massage that made Hermione's eyes close and back arch in pleasure.

"Oh Ron, that feels amazing." She moaned to him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him again - this time ferociously. After a few heavenly moments, he found himself on top of her.

She looked at him again with wide eyes: a mixed expression of excitement, lust, and fear.

"Are you ready for this?" Ron asked in a husky voice.

"Yes."


	14. Chapter 14 (Second Edition)

**A/N: This is a re-write and combination of Chapters 14 and 15. Some of it is new, but most of it is from the original chapters.**

His short arms stiff from old age, Kreacher slowly pulled the curtains open. He wondered if Master would enjoy the sunlight or if he would be punished for opening the curtains, as he had been in the past. It went against Kreacher's nature to act in ambiguity, but he did not have much choice: without the sunlight pouring through the ancient windows, his failing eyes would not have enough light to see to do his work. Which was worse: a sunlit home or a dirty one? He was unsure, but it was easier for him to draw the shades than to clean an entire house quickly in case Master is displeased.

At this time, he felt compelled to begin breakfast for Master, but he did not know where he was; he only knew that he was not here. An ache grew in Kreachers belly, the same ache that he felt almost every day.

He did not have a word for it — because house elves do not learn such things — but if he did, he would know that this ache was the feeling of loneliness. Grimmauld place had been empty for almost an entire year except for the few weeks when Master and his companions had stayed with him. Why did they leave and never come back?

That very day, several intruders broke in but the ancient magic of the house was enough to scare them away. Was that why Master did not return? Didn't Master know that Original Master Orion had placed every powerful protectant he could on this house? Spells so capable that even with a hundred secret-keepers or thousand dark wizards, only those with the permission of the master of the house may stay?

The ache was so constant, that he found himself longing for the days when the whole residence was overfilled by comers and goers. He had previously thought that they were muggle-loving scum, but his opinion had perhaps changed. Master associated himself with them, and Master was most honorable. After all, wasn't it that girl who had inspired Master to give Kreacher the greatest treasure: the locket that he wore around his neck every moment of every day?

Kreacher quietly made his way through the drawing room, careful not to make any noise as he passed Mistress Black. He loved Mistress Black, but she had only negative things to say about Master and his companions. A different kind of pain awoke in Kreacher during her ramblings about Master — this pain may also be known as "conflicted", another emotion that house elves were not raised to identify.

Kreacher thought it best to keep Mistress's curtains shut.

* * *

"Hermione, honey, we're home!" Hermione's mother called with a soft knock on the door. Ron's eyes snapped open from a light sleep to see that Hermione was looking at him with her eyes wide as well.

"Don't make any noise!" Hermione whispered underneath her breath to Ron.

"Okay mum! I'll be right out!" She called. They heard her footsteps depart down the hall.

Ron turned to see that it was a little past seven in the morning. They must have been pretty exhausted from the night before or perhaps they were just so comfortable sleeping in each other's arms that they didn't hear when Hermione's parents arrived.

"They are going to be expecting me to come out for breakfast!" Hermione whispered hurriedly to Ron. He reached forward and tucked one of her wayward strands of hair behind her ear.

"Let me just enjoy this for one more minute." He said quietly. She smiled at him, leaned forward and kissed him softly. She pulled away and he gazed at her lovingly.

"Okay! Minute is up!" She said suddenly.

"Let me just gather my clothes and I will disapparate!"

"No! The crack will be too loud!"

"I will climb out the window first!"

"Okay."

Ron jumped out of bed and pulled on his jeans and t-shirt from the night before.

"Thanks for last night." He said, leaning over and pressing his lips against her forehead. "It was amazing."

She blushed and smiled at him before watching him disappear out of her window.

Harry was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping on a hot cup of coffee, when Ron stumbled through the door. His shirt wrinkled, his hair untamed, and one pant leg tucked into a sock, he looked around sheepishly.

"Morning!" Harry said brightly in attempt to startle Ron. Ron jumped and blurted, "Bloody hell, Harry! You scared the mickey out of me."

"Spent the night at Hermione's, I assume?" Harry asked as he reached for another mug and poured Ron some coffee. Ron grinned in response and took the cup.

"You look like hell, mate." Harry said with a little laugh.

"Do I?" Ron asked while running his hand through his hair. Harry was briefly reminded of his father who used to do the same thing. "In that case, I better get up stairs before mum sees me. Did she notice I wasn't here?"

"Well, I haven't heard any screaming or cursing so I think you're in the clear."

"Thank Merlin," He said under his breath before chugging his coffee, putting his cup in the sink, and trotting out the door.

Harry smiled at his friend's antics before turning his gaze back out the window. Because it was Monday morning, he was impatiently waiting for his vault contents to be delivered to the Burrow. He assumed that the owls would be delivering the gold soon; he imagined that the Gringotts goblins were eager to be done with him.

A crack in the garden surprised him slightly. Perhaps a guard wizard was delivering his gold? He set his mug down on the counter and was making his way towards the door when it opened by itself. Another Weasley son walked in: George.

"Harry!" He exclaimed, a big smile spreading across his face. He wrapped Harry in a big hug and slapped him on the back.

"George! You seem… chipper." Harry said, trying to hide his surprise. Last he had heard, George was burrowed into a pile of trash and dirty laundry at his apartment.

"Well, Harry, my pal…" George began, grabbing Ron's used cup out of the sink, filling it with coffee, and sipping it, "I have some grade-A fantastic news to share."

"Is that so?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow in interest.

"Yes," George said with an animated wink and nod. "But I'm afraid now is not the time to share it."

"George!" An excited Molly called as she entered the room. She swept up to the boy, placed her hands on the sides of head and kissed his cheeks. "George, my sweet boy, how are you?"

"I'm swell, mum." he said, leaning into her hug.

"I'm so glad you've come to visit your mother." She said, pulling away from him and making her way to the coffee pot where she, too, filled up a mug before snuggling back up to her son. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Of course I came with the sole purpose of visiting you, mum." George said with a dramatically sweet voice. "But now that I'm here, I am reminded of a question: is there space in the attic for a few of my things? I'm trying to make some room in the apartment."

"Oh really?" Molly asked, turning her attention to him. "Why is that?"

"I have a new roommate moving in."

"Who?" Molly questioned in surprise.

"A friend from Hogwarts." George answered as she pursed her lips.

"That's…" She started, searching for the right word, "…Nice. It will be nice for you to have some company."

"I think so." He agreed.

"Well, there's a bit of space in the attic." She said thoughtfully. "Not much but I'm sure you can fit a few boxes up their."

"What about my old bedroom?" George asked.

"That works too." Molly said quietly. The thought of filling Fred's old bedroom with unwanted belongings did not settle well with her but she held her tongue.

"Bloody hell, what is that?" George said, stepping away from his mother and pointing out the window. In the distance, a huge flock of owls were carrying an assortment of belongings: some carried small packages or bags, others worked together to carry large items like armchairs or cabinets, suspended between them. All in all, there must have been more than a few hundred birds carrying enough goods to fill a large home. A small, hunched figure seemed to be leading them on broomstick.

"I have no idea." Harry said, shaking his head at the odd sight.

"Harry," Molly said in slowly dawning recognition, "That must be the contents of your vault!"

"What?!" Harry exclaimed, "I don't recognize any of that from my vault."

"Well, remember the letter said vaults." With a sinking feeling, he realized that she was right. But what was all of this junk?

George seemed to process what was happening, chuckled at the sight and said, "Well, looks like we're going to need more than a bit of space in the attic!"

* * *

"Good morning, my love." Dr. Granger said as Hermione made her way into the kitchen. Her mother was stirring up something in a pan on the stove. "How did you sleep?"

With a small smile, Hermione said, "I slept very well. How was Liverpool?"

"Oh it was fun. Your dad is still recovering from his drink choices last night." Her mother responded with a laugh as Hermione made herself comfortable in one of their dining chairs and helped herself to a piece of toast from the stack in the middle of the table. "It was nice to see everyone. A little difficult to explain where we had been though."

Hermione's face burned with shame. Her parents had said they had forgiven her, but she was still consumed by guilt when she thought about what she had done.

"Do you remember Linda Eastman?" Her mother continued on - either unaware of her daughter's thoughts or perhaps in an attempt to drive away from them. Hermione nodded. Linda Eastman had been a neighbor of theirs before she moved away before Hermione started Hogwarts. "Her daughter was just accepted at University of Cambridge for their pre-medicine program. Isn't that great?"

"Yes, very good for her." Hermione agreed, pouring herself a cup of orange juice. She had the distinct feeling that she knew where this conversation was headed: a discussion that she would have loved to have a few years ago, but one that she was totally unprepared for at the moment.

"Are there universities in the wizarding world?" Dr. Granger asked, right on queue.

"There are, but I don't know much about them."

"Is it something you've considered?" She inquired, bringing over a plate of breakfast scramble to her daughter.

"Briefly in the past." _Before I had to destroy the darkest wizard of all time_ , Hermione thought to herself.

"Well, I would encourage that, my love." Her mother said, placing a soft hand on the top of Hermione's and offering a reassuring smile. "Maybe we can go visit some together and see if there's any you like."

"That sounds like an excellent idea, Mum."

* * *

Harry, George, and Molly stood in the yard of the Burrow, watching a flock of hundreds of package laden owls fly closer and closer. The closer the owls got, the larger their packs appeared. They heard Arthur exit the burrow and walk up to their small group.

"What in Merlin's beard is going on out here?" He exclaimed.

"These are the Gringotts owls." Molly explained.

"And why are they carrying the entire contents of Magical Mail Away?" He asked in confusion as he placed his arm around Molly's shoulders.

"Those are all of Harry's belongings, dear." She said; his face looked shocked.

"Harry, my boy," He said, turning towards Harry, "You should have warned us that you had so much. I'm not sure what we'll do with it."

"There must be a mistake." Harry said desperately, "I've never seen any of this."

"Well, just because you've never seen it before doesn't mean its not yours." George started. "You could have a horrible, ugly disfigurement right in the middle of your back that you've never see because of its unfortunate location but that doesn't mean it's not there."

"George, that's enough." Molly warned

"Don't you worry, Harry," Arthur reassured, "We'll sort this all out."

Just at that moment, the owls touched down on the ground. Behind them, a goblin riding a hippogriff landed as well. The stout creature slid off the hippogriff's back and marched up to the Weasleys and Harry.

"Mr. Harry Potter?" The goblin said in a deep, slow voice, consulting his clipboard.

"Yes?" Harry responded.

"My name is Fuldur. I am the goblin in charge of delivering the contents of your vaults. Sign this and the owls will deposit their parcels." The stern looking goblin recited, the words as stale as a week-old loaf of bread. He held out the clipboard and a quill.

"Er, excuse me but—" Harry started but Arthur interrupted with, "Kavdalb, Fuldur. Ek hin Arthur Weasley."

At the sound of gobbledegook, Fuldur lifted his eyes from the clipboard and acknowledged, for the first time, his company.

"Kavdalb, Arthur." He said with a grunt before turning his attention to Harry. "Mr. Potter, sign this so that I can go. I have a busy schedule. I don't have time for niceties."

"Well, Fuldur, we are in a bit of a predicament." Arthur said, "Harry was under the impression that he only had one vault."

Fuldur regarded Harry and Arthur with a look of intense dislike before directing his attention back to his clipboard and flipping through the pages.

"According to our records, a second vault was opened under your name on November 1, 1981."

"I've never seen a second vault." Harry said in confusion.

"Have you asked to visit it before?" Fuldur asked.

"No." Harry replied sheepishly.

"Do you expect us to be mind readers, Mr. Potter?" Fuldur asked irritatedly.

"No." Harry replied again

"Well, in that case, I must say that your confusion is self-inflicted."

"Yes, Fuldur, I also think that it was foolish of Harry to be unaware that he had another vault under his name." Arthur agreed but gave Harry a wink, "The problem we're facing is that we don't have anywhere to store all of these things. Surely you can keep it at Gringott's for a few more days for us."

"Impossible." Fuldur said.

"Well, can you direct the owls somewhere else?" George chimed in.

"Where else would you direct them?" Molly asked.

"My flat. It's not ideal but Harry's in a pinch—"

"What about Grimmauld place?" Harry blurted. "There's lots of space there."

"That could work," Arthur said, nodding his head. "What do you think Fuldur?"

Fuldur gave the man an appraising look. "What's it mean to you?"

Arthur dug his hands into his pocket and pulled out a galleon and a few sickles. Fuldur scoffed.

"I know the value of what these owls are carrying. My price is twenty five galleons."

"Twenty five galleons?!" George exclaimed. "Harry, my stock boys will help you move all this for a few galleons each. Twenty five galleons is a robbery."

Harry considered the situation. "I'll give you ten galleons."

"Fifteen."

"Deal."

* * *

As Kreacher replaced an ornate mirror on the freshly dusted dresser-top in the master bedroom, he felt a tingle at the tips of his large, bat like ears. He climbed off of his wooden stool as fast as his arthritic, old body could; with a snap of his fingers, the stool vanished. Three floors up, he hobbled down the stairs one step at a time, clutching the banister.

Noises arose from the front of the home: the door opening, the calls of owls, the shuffling of boxes. Soon the Mistresses screams were howling through the home, adding to the cacophony of noises. He could hear other shouting: "pull the curtains closed!" and "No! We need to finish moving the boxes first or we'll wake her up again!"

By the time Kreacher had made it to the bottom floor - huffing and puffing and supporting himself with a nearby table - the Mistress had been silenced, and crates and other furniture had invaded the hallway and parlor. Standing amid the boxes of belongings - sweaty and out of breath as well - were Harry, George, Ron, and Arthur.

Spying the elf, Harry said, "Hello Kreacher."

"Master has returned… And he has brought friends…" The house elf croaked out as a warmth developed in his chest: this feeling can be called happiness.

 **A/N: Let me know what you think.**

 **Nene**


	15. Chapter 15

Ginny stood at Harry's door for a moment and listened, expecting to hear his footsteps pacing back and forth throughout his small room but instead she heard nothing.

She gently tapped her knuckles on Harry's bedroom door and quietly called, "Harry, are you awake?"

"Yes!" He called back to her. She heard something shift on the ground as he added: "Come in!"

Ginny pushed the door open. Or, she tried to push the door open, but instead it only opened half way. Squeezing through the small doorspace, she was surprised to see the small room filled with boxes again. Harry sat in the middle of them looking somewhat like a madman: holding a book in his hands, papers and objects spread all around him, his shirt dirty and his hair sticking up at odd angles.

"What in Merlin's beard is going on in here?" She asked with a laugh.

"Gin! You have to look at all of this stuff!" Harry said excitedly, patting the minuscule spot of carpet next to him, inviting her to sit down. "It's all my parents' stuff! I thought it had all been destroyed but someone put it in a vault at Gringott's for me!"

Ginny thought that he looked like a child on Christmas. She maneuvered through the small room and sat down next to him after moving some papers out of the way.

"Look at this picture!" He said, passing her a picture of a family: two young parents, a small dark haired baby, and an orange cat, smiling at the camera and each other. "I'm going to frame this and keep it on my bedside."

"And this one!" A picture of Sirius and James relaxing on the porch on a sunny day.

"Here, Ginny, this one too!" A picture of Lily with her arms wrapped around an older woman - maybe Harry's grandmother.

"This one is my favorite!" A picture of Lily and James, kissing under mistletoe.

"Oh, Harry, these are so sweet." Ginny said, a huge smile spread across her face.

"You should see the rest of it, babe." He said, excitedly, turning towards her. "Will you come to Grimmauld place with me tomorrow?"

"Of course."

"Actually, I have a better idea. Let's go right now!"

"Harry, we can't go right now! It's almost ten!" She said incredulously. "Think of what my parents would say!"

Harry looked like he wanted to argue for a moment but then he changed his mind. "Okay, well, first thing in the morning then," he said before turning back to his stack of pictures.

"Yes, first thing." She agreed.

* * *

"George, the place looks really great!" Angelina said as she pushed her dinner plate away and leaned back in her chair. "And dinner was delicious as well."

"I'm glad you liked it, Ang." George said, standing up and whisking their plates away to the kitchen sink.

"Why don't you get comfortable on the couch and I'll bring you some tea and pudding?" He proposed to her.

"That sounds great!" She said, doing just as he suggested.

"George, is this a new couch too?" She called from the living room as he poured two cups of steaming tea and plated two slices of chocolate cake.

"Yep," He said as he handed her a slice of cake and put her cup of tea on the newly purchased mahogany side-table next to the couch. Angelina kicked off her shoes, revealing her light blue socks. She pulled a blanket off of the arm of the couch and draped it over herself before snuggling against George's side. Taking in a deep breath and closing her eyes, she sighed, "This is nice. We should do this more often."

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. The butterflies in his stomach that he had been trying to suppress were growing stronger. He felt the time to ask her approaching.

"Yes, we should." He agreed as his fingers found her scalp and began to massage it. She moaned quietly in content. That noise distracted him for a second but he pushed away any sexual thoughts. It was now or never.

"You know, Ang, since you said that…" He said, shifting his body to sit up a little straighter. She opened her eyes a small amount and peered up at him, expectantly.

"What do you think about moving in with me?" he asked softly.

"Haha, very funny." Angelina said in mock amusement, closing her eyes again and laying back into George.

"I'm serious, Ang." He said softly.

She opened her eyes again, this time fully. Seeing the serious look on his face, she untangled herself from him, wrapped the blanket around herself, and finally said, "I don't really know what to say."

"Say yes." He suggested with a devilish smile.

"Well, it just seems so… sudden." She said carefully, picking each word with deliberation. He grabbed both of her hands and held them in his.

"I know it's sudden but it's a great idea. If you're living with me then I can take care of you while you're pregnant and I can help with the baby after their born. You won't have to worry about rent or grocery shopping. You'll always have someone to massage your feet when they're swollen or help you get your shoes on when you belly gets too big."

She looked at him without saying anything. Her expression was calculating, imperturbable.

"I know what will convince you." He said with a mischievous smile, suddenly rising up and pulling her hand with him. She rose too, still with the blanket wrapped around her, and followed him down the hallway towards his bedroom.

"George, really, we can't just stop a serious conversation and have sex." She said exasperatedly. _Would he ever not be randy?_ she wondered to herself. He turned around and looked at her with a glint in his eyes.

"Got sex on the brain?" He asked her teasingly. "Well that will have to wait until later, I'm afraid."

With that, he pushed the bedroom door open and pulled her in behind him.

She was shocked to see that the room was rearranged and redecorated. The bed that had been crammed in the corner was now centered in the middle of the wall and had bedside tables on each side. A new, silky soft blanket was spread over it and two sets of plump pillows were arranged carefully at the head. On the opposite wall, the small, cluttered, crooked mess of a wardrobe that George had had before had been replaced by a large, wooden set of drawers and topped with a mirror and a lamp. The floor had a plush rug spread across it and there were framed pictures on the wall.

"You did this for me?" She asked quietly, in disbelief. He nodded but did not say anything. Still holding her hand, he led her back into the hallway and stopped at the door across from his bed - Fred's previous room. He stood outside of it for a moment - a duration that was perhaps imperceptible to anyone but Angelina - took a deep breath, opened the door, and escorted her inside.

The room was unrecognizable. What had previously been the definition of a bachelor's room had now been artfully converted to a baby's nursery. The walls had been painted a soft yellow. A crib was stationed against the back wall with a mobile gently rotating above it. A diaper changing station with a wardrobe was fitted in next to a rocking chair.

Tears sprung to Angelina's eyes as she whispered, "Oh George…"

"I didn't do this for _you_ , Angelina." He said, answering her earlier question. "I did this for _us_. For _our family_."

She walked toward the crib, carefully reached up and held one of the ornaments from the mobile in her hand.

"So what do you say?" George asked her as she did this. She turned around with the tears trickling down her cheeks, a big smile on her face, and said, "I would love to."

* * *

"First thing" to Ginny and Harry must have meant different things. Ginny intended to go to Grimmauld place after they had had breakfast and showered; Harry was knocking on her bedroom door at seven in the morning, asking her if she was up yet. He received a grunt in response. Without invitation, he opened her door and walked in. He smiled involuntarily when he saw her resting form curled up in her bed.

He walked up to the bed and sat on it, placing his hand on her blanketed hip.

"Good morning sleepy head." He said in an attempt to be quiet, his excitation peeking through, "It's time to rise and shine. I've got lots to show you."

She opened her eyes slightly, regarded him for a moment, closed her eyes again and held her arms open as an invitation. He leaned forward into them and she instantly rearranged her body so that she was laying partially on top of him. He fought back a pang of impatience. He felt her take in a deep breath and nuzzle her head against his chest. Her warm body wrapped around him was tempting…

As if she could hear his thoughts, she shifted again so that her pelvis was pressed against him, moving slightly back and forth. A small mischievous smile appeared on her face. Harry began to harden in agreement.

"Gin, you little temptress," He accused, turning over so that his body was pressed against hers. She opened her eyes now and peered at him rebelliously. She raised an eyebrow and winked at him.

Giving in to his temptation, he wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled her in for a strong, passionate kiss. It deepened as his other hand found its way under her blanket, landing on her warm stomach and spreading across her back. She seemed to have different plans though because she grabbed it and redirected it between her legs. He lost himself in kissing her, feeling her, for just a moment — before he came to his senses.

"Ginny, your parents will hear us." He whispered as he slowly extracted himself from her.

"Just use Muffliato!" She suggested.

"I don't feel right about it," He admitted as he pulled himself out of her bed. She rolled her eyes and huffed impatiently. He gave her pointed look before saying, "Come on, get up! I'm excited to show you everything."

She sighed dramatically and got out of bed as slowly as if she were crawling out of a pool of sticky honey. He smiled when he saw her pajamas - a white tank top and a pair of gold and red striped panties.

"Okay, okay, let me just get ready." She agreed, walking towards her dresser. She pulled off her t-shirt and threw it into the hamper.

"This weather is making my skin so dry," She said casually as she grabbed a bottle of lotion of the top of her bureau. Harry, who was standing by the door now, murmured agreement as he consulted his watch impatiently.

Noticing her distracted boyfriend, Ginny squeezed some lotion into her hand and bent over to massage it into her long legs. After her legs were thoroughly coated, she moved her hands up to her upper body, rubbing the creamy liquid into first her arms then her stomach. Harry looked up when the sweet fragrance filled the small room.

When Ginny looked over at Harry, she saw that his mouth was hanging open slightly. She put an innocent look on her face and asked, "What?"

He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of wrackspurts. He cast an anxious look at the door and then another at his watch. When he looked up again, he saw Ginny massaging the lotion onto her breasts. She gave him a wink.

In a series of sudden movements that showed his quick agility, Harry whipped out his wand and cast both _muffliato_ and _colloportus_ at the door before striding across the room, scooping Ginny up, throwing her on the bed, and climbing on top of her.

While he began to feverishly kiss her neck, Ginny was smiled to herself. Her lotion plan had worked like a charm.

* * *

 **A/N: Let me know what you think. More reviews = faster updates. :)**

 **Nene**


	16. Chapter 16

"Mum!" Molly heard a deep voice call from downstairs along with the jingling of the bells on the doorknob. She couldn't place a finger on which son it was; they all sounded so similar sometimes. She closed the magazine she had been perusing and made her way downstairs as she called, "Coming!"

Stepping into the kitchen, she saw George - but he was not alone.

"George! Angelina!" She exclaimed, pulling them each into a tight hug. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"We were hoping that we could join you and Dad for dinner." George said with a cheesy smile. A knowing smile appeared on Molly's face.

"George!" Angelina chided, "You didn't ask first?" George gave her a rogue smile.

"Oh, not to worry, my dear! We would be delighted to have you join us," Molly reassured. Her eyes flicked to the way George's hand rested on the small of Angelina's back. "I actually just came across a new recipe that I would love to try." She said and held up the magazine in her hands.

"Angelina, I haven't seen you since before your trip to Africa. You have to tell me all about it!" Molly said as she made her way into the kitchen and began to pull things out of cupboards and drawers. As Angelina began to tell the story of her wonderful few months in Africa, Molly noticed the way that George was watching her: as if she was the most interesting storyteller in the world. She wasn't sure if she was happy for her son or in disbelief that he had actually fallen for someone.

Angelina and George were soon recruited to help prepare the dinner and as they chopped, simmered, stirred, and baked, more family members began to arrive.

"Harry, it really is a great idea but maybe you should think about it for a few days before you invest—" Ginny's voice, sounding from the garden, was interrupted by Harry's.

"It's the best idea I've ever had, Ginny." Harry said confidently with no indication of taking her advice.

The two walked through the door - appearing disheveled and dusty - and were surprised to see George and Angelina.

"Ang!" Harry said with a big smile. She sped over to him and they gave each other a friendly hug. "You look great!"

Ginny nodded her head in agreement. Angelina looked different to her somehow but she couldn't put a finger on it. Somewhat softer, warmer.

"Thanks," Angelina said with a blush. Just then, they heard two popping noise and more voices in the yard. The door opened and in walked Arthur and Percy.

"Look who I found at the office today!" Arthur was saying as he walked through the door, his arm wrapped around his son. A joyfully surprised expression appeared on his face at the sight of George and Angelina. He pulled George into a hug, patting him firmly on the back before giving Angelina a quick hug too.

Molly was delighted to see Percy and instantly began to fuss over him, insisting that he looked peaky and he needed new glasses. Percy looked anxious at her commotion over him until he shook her off, insisting that he needed to wash up before dinner.

"I'm worried we won't have enough dinner." George said quietly to Angelina.

"I'm worried that the quiet dinner we were going to have with your parents has turned into a family reunion. Who's going to walk through the door next, your great aunt Muriel?" Angelina countered.

And on cue, the door opened again. Angelina's heart skipped a beat before she realized that no, it was not Muriel. It was just Ron and Hermione. "Hey Mum do you mind if—" Ron was shouting as he entered the room before he realized that his mother was right in front of him and so were another half dozen people.

"We would love for Hermione to join us at dinner!" Molly said with a huge smile, answering her youngest son's unfinished question. The house had been so empty lately and it was great to have so many guests. Ron and Hermione made their way through the room, saying hello to everyone before Molly announced that dinner was ready.

They all made their way to the dining table and sat down, passing around bottles of wine and a pitcher of lemonade. The meal was delicious and time flew by as they talked about what they had all been up to.

When everyone seemed to be finishing up, George reached under the table to Angelina's hand. He squeezed it and meeting her eye, raised an eyebrow. She gave an affirmative nod and just as he was about to clear his throat, someone else did.

"I would like to make an announcement," Percy said as everyone hushed around him, looking excited. He smiled arrogantly and said, "Today, Minister Shacklebolt offered me the position of Head of the Department of Magical Transportation and I am happy to report that I accepted."

Cheers of congratulations erupted around the table.

"Following in his father's footsteps!" Molly exclaimed.

"Great!" Harry said.

"Congratulations!" Hermione offered, "That's really an accomplishment!"

"Did Kingsley offer you Head of Transportation because of the broomstick that's permanently shoved up your—" George started to ask before seeing the warning look on Molly's face. He quickly stopped his joke; Molly needed to be a in a good mood for him to leave the house alive tonight.

Once the noise settled, Angelina squeezed George's hand and he prepared himself for their own announcement but once again he was too late.

"I have something to say too." Ron stated. When everyone fell silent and looked at him, the tips of his ears turned pink. Molly's eyes flicked to Hermione's naked left hand that was perched casually on the table.

"It's not the head of a department at the ministry or anything," he started, his blush deepening, "but George and I have talked about it and I'm going to be his new partner at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

"Awesome, Ron." Ginny said excitedly, "That's way cooler than anything at the ministry."

"Hey!" Percy said, affronted. Arthur chuckled and Harry couldn't help but silently agree.

Molly's eyes were filled with tears at the thought of her sons working as business partners.

"Mum, come off it," Ron said as she patted her eyes.

"They're happy tears!" She reassured.

"It's now or never," Angelina whispered to George and as he was inhaling to speak, Arthur's voice cut through the chatter.

"Well, since we are announcing things!" Arthur said in a jovial voice, "I have finally reached one hundred sparkplugs in my collection!"

And the reaction of this announcement was the most celebrated. George whistled. Harry and Ron clapped. Molly rolled her eyes and a huge smile broke out between her tear trailed cheeks. Percy seemed irritated that his special announcement had inspired such a menial one. Ginny and Arthur were howling in laughter. George looked at a slightly smiling Angelina and before anyone else could announce another thing, he blurted out: "Angelina and I are having a baby!"

Silence fell immediately. Arthur's mouth dropped and his mouth formed a perfect O, not unlike George's when he first head the news. Molly froze in place: her glass of wine halfway up to her lips. Hermione and Ron looked down at the table, sneaking peeks at their table-mate's reactions.

"Come off it," Harry finally said, after no one else realized it was a joke.

"He's serious." Angelina said, as she pulled out a sonogram picture and held it up for everyone to see. Noise erupted again around the table.

"How long have you known?" Ginny demanded.

"Are you having a boy or a girl?" Percy questioned.

"Really, this is the best way to announce it?" Ron asked.

"Blimey, that's unbelievable!" Harry said, shock evident on his face.

Angelina smiled and tried to answer all of the questions but George had eyes only for his mother. Molly remained frozen for a moment before slowly rising up from her chair. George thought she was going to the leave and his stomach sank. But instead, a huge smile appeared on her face and she hurried over to him. He stood up and they pulled each other into a tight hug. He could feel her warm, happy tears against his cheek.

"I never thought that I could be this happy again," She whispered into his ear and tears began to stream from his eyes as well.

 **A/N: A quick chapter to move things along. Thanks for all the reviews. I will be definitely incorporating some of the suggestions into upcoming chapters. Let me know what you think.**


	17. Chapter 17 (Second Edition)

**A/N: Sorry about the formatting issue! All is resolved. Enjoy!**

When Harry opened the door for Ron, he stormed in like an angry hurricane. His hair was aflither and his cheeks were red. He began to pace immediately in the empty room, unaware of his surroundings and muttering below his breath.

"I take it that lunch with Hermione didn't go very well?" Harry asked. Ron answered him with a glare that could wilt flowers.

"Get a load of this," He said, his voice booming, "Hermione just told me that her mother has convinced her to go to University after she's done with Hogwarts!"

Harry raised his eyebrows in confusion before asking, "And you're surprised by this?"

"Well, she doesn't want to stay in London for it! She wants to go to America or Africa or—" Ron stopped and affixed his furious gaze on Harry "or Bulgaria!"

Harry wanted to ask what was wrong with Bulgaria but Ron was already answering his question.

"I know exactly what will happen if she goes to bloody Bulgaria. That big-nosed hunched-back neanderthal Krum is going to track her down and lure her into - into - into his cave or something!" Ron shouted dramatically. Harry was briefly reminded of the time a few years ago when Ron was literally singing Krum's praises at the Quidditch World Cup. He decided to keep that memory to himself.

"I'm sure that wouldn't happen, mate." Harry said, attempting to be reassuring. "You and Hermione are - I don't know - meant to be together." He said a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"Exactly!" Ron agreed loudly, as if that was the point he was trying to make. "We are meant to be together! So why is she trying to split us up?" Ron asked, his voice cracking towards the end of his sentence.

And just like that, Harry saw Ron's anger transform into hurt. He bowed his head and pinched his brow.

Harry's discomfort intensified. He and Ron were best friends, of course, but the conversations that they had about relationships could have been counted on one hand. And this wasn't some girl they were talking about - this was Hermione, who was like a sister to him. He could see that Ron was hurt but he couldn't silence the voice inside of his head that didn't blame Hermione for wanting to continue her education and explore the world.

"Listen, I don't think she wants to be apart from you." Harry said quietly. Ron lifted his head; his eyes were searching for comfort in Harry's words. "She missed you terribly when you were apart."

"I missed her!" Ron said loudly, making large movements with his hands to demonstrate how much he had missed her during their separation before adding a little more softly, "And that's when I knew that I never wanted to be away from her again."

"Do you want to know what I think, honestly?" Harry asked, slightly nervous to offer his two cents. The last thing he wanted was to get into a row with Ron but he couldn't stand their and say nothing when he could practically feel the anguish coming from his friend.

"I think that Hermione got all worked up about the idea of attending university and immediately looked into the most prestigious ones. You know how she gets sometimes - like a frantic lunatic." Ron nodded in agreement. "I think that she'll settle down and when she thinks about it for more than a moment, she would realize that she doesn't want to be away from you either."

"Well, if she wants to go to a prestigious university, I don't want to hold her back." Ron said, sadly. "I mean, she's practically a genius and I'm just a…" But what Ron considered himself, he didn't say.

"Well, I hear that the Lumina Ludwig University in London is very respected." Harry offered.

Ron nodded his head, took a deep breath, and looked around for somewhere to sit. As he surveyed his surroundings, he looked surprised.

"Harry, why did you want me to meet you here?" He asked, suddenly very curious about why he was standing in the middle of the drawing room of 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Oh, uh, well I'm —" Harry stammered for a moment, slightly caught off guard by the change of subject. "I'm thinking about moving in."

Ron gave him a skeptical look before checking out the dark room again. He surveyed the peeling wallpaper, the ancient carpet, and the chained shut picture of Mrs. Black. He turned his attention back to Harry and regarded him in a similar way that he would regard Professor Lockhart.

"Come off it. Moving in here?" He asked with a scoff. "Kreacher told you the boggarts and doxies were getting lonely, did he?"

"No - listen, it's a great idea!" Harry said, his eyes suddenly lighting up. "Sirius was miserable here, right? Because it was dark and evil here. So wouldn't it be brilliant to turn it into a home that he would have loved? A home where a Gryffindor belongs?"

"A home? Isn't this a big place for one person?" Ron asked, still skeptical.

"Well, that's why I wanted you to come over." Harry explained. "I wanted to ask if you wanted to be my housemate."

"Really?" Ron asked, surprised.

"Really! And you'll pay no rent, as far as I'm concerned. We'll just split the utilities. You would have to help me fix it up, of course." Harry said excitedly, trying to seal the deal.

Ron seemed deep in thought for a moment. Harry held his breath. Ron's face broke into a grin.

"Alright! Let's do it!" Ron said, offering a hand and Harry excitedly shook it.

"Wait - I forgot to mention something." Harry said, suddenly remembering.

"Oh Merlin's beard," Ron groaned, certain it would have to do something with spiders. "What?"

"Teddy will have a room here too. So he can uh - spend the night - and - play games and - erm - do whatever little kids do." Harry said - his god son was the reason he had had the idea in the first place.

Ron considered this for a moment and nodded his head.

"As long as you're the one changing diapers in the middle of the night, fine by me!"

 **Let me know what you think.  
**

 **Nene**


	18. Chapter 18

"Hey handsome," Ginny called quietly as walked through the side door. He jumped at the sound of her voice. She was sitting at the kitchen table, holding a cup of steaming tea in front of her with both hands.

"Gin!" He said with a smile, "Why are you still up? It's late!"

His hair was sticking up and his clothes were dusty. As he approached her, he smelled musty, like he had been working all day.

"I was waiting for you, silly." She said as he sat down next to her. He kissed her on the cheek and she wrinkled her nose at his dirtiness. She could see dust in his eyebrows.

"If I had known you were waiting up, I would have come home sooner." He said.

"Well, from now on," She said, taking one of his hands in hers, "Just assume I'm always waiting up for you."

"That's fair." He said with a smile. "I like coming home to you."

Ginny leaned against his shoulder. He breathed in the smell of her lavender shampoo; how did she always smell so good?

"Stay at the Burrow with me." Ginny said quietly.

"Move to Grimmauld Place with me." Harry countered. Ginny sat up and looked at him, gauging how serious he was.

"I'm going back to school in a few weeks." Ginny argued.

"Well, when you finish school, move in to GP with me. That gives me a year to make it perfect for you."

Ginny considered him for a moment. Her brown eyes searched his green ones.

"Okay." She said, and Harry's face broke into a huge grin. He pulled her close and kissed her. Feeling his hand lace its way through her hair, she shifted her weight and began to climb on top of him.

"Gin, wait," He said, his voice husky and deep in her ear. "I'm filthy. Let me take a shower."

"Can I join you?" She said with a devilish wink. A split second later, Harry was half way up the stairs, pulling Ginny behind him by the hand. He grabbed his towel from his room and then, in the bathroom, began to strip off his clothes. Ginny pulled hers off too and jumped in the shower, turning the water on and adjusting it to the perfect, steaming temperature.

Harry stepped in behind her before yowling like a dog and jumping out.

"Merlin's beard, that water is boiling!" He exclaimed. She looked at him with her eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh babe, I'm sorry!" She said with a giggle. She turned the faucet down to a cooler temperature. The sight of her naked body with warm water cascading down it blew away any lingering thought about the scalding water.

He climbed into the shower again and wrapped his arms around her. His hands slid easily across her wet body. His lips danced with hers, hungry to taste her. They moved from her mouth to her jawbone and down her neck when they heard a knock on the door.

He lifted his head in surprise. Ginny looked at him with wide eyes.

"Harry, you in there?" They heard Ron call through the door.

"Yea, mate." Harry called back. Holding one finger up to his lips.

"I heard you yell and, uh, just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Yea, mate, all good!" Harry called back. Ginny giggled and Harry gave her a sharp look before giggling too.

"You better be alone in there, you disgusting fuck." Ron said angrily before they heard him stomp up the stairs.

"He heard you!" Harry told her, half worried and half amused.

"Ah, who cares!" Ginny said before touching Harry in a way that didn't make him care about Ron one bit.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Small _steamy_ chapter to keep the story going. Let me know what you think. **

**Nene**


	19. Chapter 19

Ginny watched Harry as he attempted to pull the window open. The opening had rusted together and had sat shut for who knows how many years. His face was red with effort; she could see the veins in his arms bulging. She wondered if she should remind him that there was probably a spell for that.

With a grunt, he was finally able to separate them. He wiped the sweat off of his brow and breathed in the fresh air.

"Stupid window," He muttered to himself. He looked over to see Ginny grinning at him.

"You think its fun to watch me struggle?" He asked.

"Of course not," She replied. "I think it's sexy. You look really masculine, covered in dirt, muscles rippling."

Harry scoffed at her and she smiled in return. She turned back to the bed that she was making.

This was their second day spent working in this room and their second month working at Grimmauld place. It was the middle of August and the weather outside was sweltering. Luckily, the home was always cool inside - perhaps because of insulation, or magic, or the vast collection of cursed objects that were hidden away in its many rooms.

Harry and Ginny had been working at Grimmauld place almost every day. Ron stopped by most afternoons after leaving the joke shop. Hermione came by once a week or so. Kreacher worked around the clock except for when he was sleeping or preparing meals for the crew.

Day by day, the house became more livable. They started with the bathrooms, then the kitchen, the drawing room, and were finishing up in the bedrooms. The attic was still untouched but that was lowest on their list.

They heard someone call from downstairs, "Hello! Anyone home?"

It was Hermione.

"Yes, we're in Harry's room!" Ginny called back down. They heard her ascending the stairs and a moment later, she appeared in their doorway.

"Harry, the place looks great! It's hardly recognizable!" She said, giving them both hugs.

"Thanks!" Harry said with a shrug. All he could see were the tasks that still needed to be done. The walls that were bare, the corners that were dusty.

"When are you planning on moving in?" She said. She leaned against the doorframe and surveyed the room. It was practically empty except for a bed and a large box of cleaning supplies. It smelled citrusy, like it had just been sprayed with MagiClean.

"The beginning of September," Harry responded. He and Ginny looked at each mischievously. Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Well, I guess I will see it when I come home for Christmas." She said as she glanced down the hallway.

"Ron's in his room," Ginny told her, answering her unasked question. Hermione nodded in thanks and went to go find him.

They heard her footsteps grow faint before Harry wondered aloud, "I wonder if they've worked things out or if we should run in there and cast shield charms."

"You don't know? Aren't you best mates?" Ginny asked in disbelief.

"Well, yea, but we don't talk about stuff like that." He said and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Well, Hermione told me that after a lot of crying and arguing and a big dramatic thing, they had worked things out." Ginny explained.

"Sounds right," Harry said as he watched a highlights reel of all of their previous arguments play in his head.

"What would you say if I told you that I was going to America for university?" Ginny asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"I would tell you that I've always wanted to live in California." He said and grinned at her. H

"Oh, you think you're invited to come along, do you?" She said teasingly and gently pushed his shoulder. He took a step back and sat on the bed.

Harry began to think about Ginny moving halfway across the world and an unexpected pang of filled his chest. The past few months of living at the burrow had filled him with so much joy; being around Ginny was so fun, so easy, so natural for him.

It was Ginny's room he snuck into when he had a bad dream. It was Ginny's touch he craved when he was lonely. It was Ginny who could pull him out of his dark thoughts and remind him of the bright sunshine around them. Even though she would be leaving for Hogwarts soon, he hadn't really considered how he would feel without her nearby: empty, lonely.

"What are you thinking about so seriously?" She asked with a look of concern on her face.

"I'm going to miss you when you go to school," Harry said quietly. He had never told anyone that he would miss them. He had never had anyone he would miss as much as her.

A tender look appeared on her face and she stepped forward. She stationed her body between his knees, wrapped his arms around his shoulders, and pulled him against her. His head laid against her chest and he listened to her heart beat.

"I will be back before you know it." She said, as she rubbed her hand across his back. "And you can visit on Hogsmeade weekends, and we will write all the time."

He wrapped his arms around her legs and she leaned down and kissed his head. He pulled his head off of her and looked into her brown eyes.

"If you go to America, I'm going with you." He said, matter of factly. His confidence sent a shudder down Ginny's spine and she smiled.

"I have no intention of going anywhere," She said gently, "Except right back to you."

"Move in with me when you're done at Hogwarts." He said, with the same confidence, like a man knowing exactly what he wants in life.

She considered him for a minute and a big smile erupted on her face. "I would love to."

 **A/N: Someone messaged me and asked me why I had given Harry and Ginny such a sexual, passionate, affectionate relationship. I have a few reasons why. First, I think that after everything Harry and Ginny have been through, they deserve to have something easy and happy. Happy relationships usually have a lot of sex! Also, that's just how I imagine their relationship. Ginny and Harry are so passionate and fiery about everything, it only makes sense that they are like that for each other.**

 **Let me know what you think!**

 **Nene**


	20. Chapter 20

"Your mum is going to blow a gasket when she finds out that you haven't started packing," Harry said quietly to Ginny, whose head was resting on his shoulder as they snuggled on his bed.

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," She replied with a big sigh as she closed her eyes and nuzzled her head against him.

It was August 31st; the Hogwarts Express was leaving in the morning. Ginny was determined to spend as much time with Harry as possible before she wouldn't see him for months.

He wrapped his arms around her, gave her one last, big squeeze, and then insisted that they get up so she could pack. They made their way to her room before Harry realized that half of the things she needed to pack had migrated to random, far corners of the house. They looked for Arnold the the Pygmy Puff for over an hour ("He's a living animal! Don't you need to fed him?" "He's very independent!") and it was practically dinner time before they gathered all her books ("Didn't you just buy them yesterday? How could they have separated!?").

Dinner was a chance for them to refuel - Ginny's energy and Harry's patience - and also a chance for them to listen to Hermione fret about whether she had packed everything she needed, even though she had already triple checked.

"I can't believe they didn't want my help packing," Hermione said to Ron as they entered his room.

"I think they just want to be alone," Ron lied instead of saying that he didn't think they wanted to follow her obsessive compulsive packing protocol.

"That's fine with me," She replied, taking his hands in hers, "Because that means that we get to be alone too."

Ron leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.

"I am going to miss you." He whispered and she nodded her head.

"I will miss you too." She said, "Hogwarts will be completely different without you."

"You'll probably love it - no one to distract you or copy off of you."

"Well, that does sound pretty nice." She said with a mischievous smile. Ron's jaw dropped in mock offense. "How dare you!" He said, picking her up and playfully throwing her on the bed, beginning to tickle her sides.

She shrieked in laughter before wriggling out from underneath him until she was on top of him.

"But I would rather have this," She said, leaning in to kiss him. He kissed her back, his hands finding her backside. She sighed against his lips and he pulled away a millimeter so that he could whisper, "In that case, I'll give you something to remember."

The next morning, after Harry snuck back to his room and Hermione snuck back to Ginny's, the entire Burrow was in a hectic hubbub. Arthur wished the girls good luck and gave Ginny a kiss on the cheek goodbye before flooing to the ministry. Ginny raced around the home, trying to locate a last few minute items. Hermione was frantically quadruple checking her list, insisting that she must have forgotten something. Molly was making one last, desperate plea to Ron that he can still board the train and she will send him all of his books and supplies overnight. Harry watched this all with an amused smile, leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping a cup of hot coffee.

When everyone was finally walking out the door, he rinsed his mug in the sink and set it on the counter to dry.

"Harry, dear, we're leaving!" Molly cried from the yard.

"Oy! Let's go!" Ron called.

"Harry! You're making us late!" Hermione screamed.

"I am literally thirty seconds behind you." Harry said as he climbed into the backseat of the magically expanded car next to Ginny.

"Thirty seconds can make all the difference when you're trying to catch a train!" Hermione said, matter of factly. Ginny rolled her eyes so only Harry could see. He put his hand on her knee and she put her hand on top of his.

Harry squeezed her hand, wishing that the car ride would go slowly but before he knew it, they were unloading their trunks at King's Cross. After they had made it through the barrier, Harry felt slightly overwhelmed at the crowd of people and the rush of activity.

He looked around and saw a few younger students that he recognized but did not see any of his classmates. He briefly wondered if Hermione was the only person dedicated or mad enough to return for a final year of school.

A large hairy figure caught his eye and he called out "Hagrid!"

Hagrid turned at the sound of his name and when he saw Harry, a huge grin broke out on his face. He made his way through the crowd quickly and pulled Harry into a rib cracking hug.

"Harry! How the hell are yeh?" He said as he slapped him on the back enthusiastically. "I can' believe yer comin' back to Hogwarts. I didn' think yeh were!"

"Hagrid, actually—" Harry began but Hermione interrupted him.

"Hi Hagrid!" Hermione said.

"Hermione! Ain't you a sight fer sore eyes!" Hagrid said as he gave her a hug as well. "You mus' be the reason why Harry here is returning to Hogwarts. Bless you!"

"Oh, no, Hagrid. Harry isn't going back." Hermione explained. "It's just Ginny and me."

Hagrid's face fell and a feeling of guilt grew in Harry's stomach. This reminded him of sixth year when he, Ron, and Hermione hadn't signed up to take Care of Magical Creatures.

"I'm going to visit very often though!" Harry said suddenly, surprising himself as the words came out of his mouth. He doubted McGonagall would allow him on school campus during the term. "And maybe we can meet for a pint at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade on the weekends."

"Tha' would be great," Hagrid said with a big smile. He check his watch and startled at the time.

"Bloody hell, McGonagall will be mighty mad a' me if none of the firs' years make it on the train. Good seein' yeh, Harry." Hagrid said as he bid them goodbye and wandered off calling, "Er'body on the train now! 'Is leavin' any momen'!"

Harry looked down at his own watch, the scratched one that Molly and Arthur had given him for his seventeenth birthday. The time was 10:55.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye." Harry said, as he held both of Ginny's hands in his.

"It's not goodbye," Ginny said, "It's see you soon."

She leaned in and gave Harry a kiss that turned into a hug. Harry wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly, breathing in the smell of her hair, vowing to never forget it.

"Write to me," Ginny said and she pulled away from him.

"I'll start as soon as I get home." he promised.

"Goodbye, Harry!" Hermione said, giving him a quick goodbye hug too.

"Bye, Hermione!" He replied.

With that, standing next to Ron and Molly, he watched the two young ladies board the Hogwarts Express. A few minutes later, their heads popped up in a window half way down the train. The train's horn whistled, steam billowed from its pipes, and it slowly began to roll down the track. They waved and blew kisses, and then they were gone.


End file.
